


Lord Harry Potter and the Seventh Weasley

by Patmos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry is Lord Potter, Hogwarts Eighth Year, House Elves, M/M, Post-Canon, Trans Male Character, Wizarding Nobility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patmos/pseuds/Patmos
Summary: In the wake of the Battle, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny get rapidly involved in the adult wizarding world. Titles, house-elf management, and reparations are only the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

Weak sunlight was shining through a layer of thin, late afternoon clouds, providing enough heat to make the humidity irritating. Ginny paused when Harry did, wiping the back of her arm across her sweaty brow. All it really did was smear the ever-present stone dust around, and Harry didn’t look much cleaner. She smiled under her air-filtering mask as he let out a muffled cuss and shook his wand at the ground, trying in vain to settle the dust again. Most people couldn’t help themselves, but Hogwarts stone dust seemed to be magically resistant. It lingered, floating, as if it was stuck in honey sunbeams.

“You might as well give up, Harry,” she said, giving him a hard enough pat on the back to raise a small dust cloud. They were safe behind their masks, but he coughed a little anyway. Everyone that was working to restore Hogwarts this summer had developed a cough, and were daily subjected to lung-clearing potions shots, courtesy of Poppy Pomfrey and a very well-meaning but anonymous benefactor. Without that mysterious potioner, Hogwarts would have been rather badly off.

“Come on, let’s get that block into place and then head down for dinner.”

Harry nodded, and from the crinkling around his eyes, she could tell he was smiling at her. She sighed, then ruffled his hair, setting another dust cloud to drift off over the broken wall of the high tower room, carried away on a sudden, welcome breeze.

\-------

Sometimes, at night, Harry would wander the halls of the castle. He liked to run his fingertips over the textured walls as he meandered, no destination in mind. He liked to sit in old, abandoned classrooms, Map in hand, watching the occupants wander or sleep or pace. He poked around in these long-forgotten classrooms, sorting through furniture several centuries out of date, digging around in the teachers’ desks to discover classes that were no longer taught. He was fascinated by the personalities of the ancient voices, so little changed from the modern worries of their peers.

A professor of enchanting kept a laundry list of students they found misbehaving, intent on presenting it to the headmaster at the end of term. A serious, sensitive transfiguration teacher’s aide wrote poetry in the back of a notebook, her melancholy sweet as it seemed to reach through time to reflect his mood. A sheaf of music had been jammed behind a bookshelf that had tipped over in a classroom in the third floor corridor. He only barely knew what musical notes looked like, but some of the symbols seemed to be runic instead, and it made him curious.

All these things and more he collected up and stored in a hatbox in the room he shared with Ron. He intended to present it to the Headmistress at the end of the repairs, but somehow he didn’t get around to it. It stayed in his room after Hogwarts had been made stable enough that she could make the rest of the repairs on her own. It filled up gradually more and more on weekends, when he volunteered in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to repair more buildings.

As winter hols approached, Harry felt a pressing need for independence well up in his chest. He talked with Ginny, bundled up together in the “eighth years” lounge, sipping hot chocolate and watching the first snowfall of the year. She agreed that it would be good for him to get away, properly and truly, and enjoy himself somewhere.

So just after Christmas, Harry packed a satchel and a suitcase, and caught an international portkey out to Greece, where he spent an idyllic new years enjoying the mild weather and lovely beaches. He very studiously did not think about the war, but he did think a little about the future. It was a tentative, wonder-eyed exercise; he’d never been truly allowed to think past the end of the school year.

He returned to Hogwarts dark as a nut, his already dusky skin improved by a tan. He was almost as dark as Hermione, who smiled to see him in such good spirits. Ron asked him, quite seriously, if he’d cheated on Ginny, who gave Ron a good slap to the back of the head, declaring that she and Harry weren’t dating at the moment, thank you very much. Still, Ginny was glad to see him, and they spent an evening bundled under a fluffy blanket on the couch, catching up on their brief vacations.

It was surprising to see Ron being studious. He and Hermione were revision fiends, more able to focus on the goal of graduating with high marks without the distraction of life-threatening situations. Harry was even more surprised to find himself joining them, and his concentration was much improved. Had magic always been this easy, and he just far too stressed from being in the position he’d been in to notice? Or had something in him been freed with the release of Voldemort’s horcrux?

When spring hols came around, Harry did elect to stick around in Britain, but not at Hogwarts. Since the beginning of the school year, he and Kreacher had been sorting through years of back-log mail, held for him in trust by, of all things, the Harry Potter Protection Association. Since he was no longer a minor, the mail was now his. Kreacher, grumbling distastefully, had broken down the massive bags into bins, sorted by priority and type. The highest priority was legal documents, and the lowest requests for money by strangers. In some of his newer mail was a letter from a bed and breakfast in Diagon Alley that he’d helped repair.

The first day of hols, he spent the morning wishing friends well, and apparated in the afternoon to Diagon. The street was peaceful, not crowded but not deserted either. He honestly had helped repair so many buildings that he couldn’t remember where the business was. He looked again at the letter.

_Sunfox Inn_  
14 Cordi Alley  
Diagon, London 

_Dear Mr. Potter,  
We here in the restful and calming Sunfox Inn would like to congratulate you on your continued successes in the Wizarding community. Thank you, as well, for your assistance in the repairs to our premises. In appreciation, we would like to extend to you a lifetime free membership to our business. Included is our VIW token. There will always be a room open for you with us._

_Gratefully Yours,_  
Haruka Sun and Jessamine Fox  
Proprietors 

Harry ran the pad of his thumb over the medallion. It was made of rainbowy moonstone, warm from being in his hand, carved with the raised image of a fox leaping in front of a stylized sun. On the other side, cursive letters were set in it. VIW. He shook his head, more fond than ever of the wizarding world. Very Important Wizard, indeed.

He’d actually been inundated with many of these sorts of things. He was a “VIW” in nearly every wizarding business in Britain, and some on the mainland even. Kreacher, who was taking his charge of Harry’s mail with more than necessary seriousness, had sorted them by usefulness, but Harry had hung them from an old coat rack in the eighth year lounge, so that anyone of his yearmates could use the tokens. To him, all his friends and peers were important. They’d survived hell, after all.

Harry had gradually grown more familiar with the whole of London’s wizarding neighborhood throughout the year. Diagon was really just the high street of it. Knockturn, of course, ran off it, but he’d been surprised to learn there were many more streets. Cordi Alley was one of the quieter ones, given over to specialized boutiques, fine restaurants, lodgings that were quite a bit better than the Leaky Cauldron, and no few residences.

Cordi was out of the way, easily disregarded if you didn’t know it was there. He found number fourteen not far from the street opening, though it had enough distance to stay out of the noise. It was a beautiful Victorian, painted a buttery yellow with a sienna brown trim. It towered above him, wedged in between a yarn store and a clothing boutique. Somehow, he still had a spike of anxiety in his chest, going into a new place. Oh, he’d been here already, but he only remembered putting up drywall and spelling broken windows back into place.

The woman who greeted him in the entrance reminded him of Narcissa Malfoy, although purely in body type. She wore short, lavender robes over a saffron sundress, tasteful white ruffles poking out from under it. Her brown hair was piled in artful carelessness atop her head, and she had the warm, open expression that reminded him of Molly. She welcomed him with a manner both professional and casual, as if he was a long-time customer. She wasn’t overly familiar with him, though, which put him at ease. She introduced herself as Jessamine Fox.

Half an hour later, after he’d had a look at the three rooms that were currently free and been settled in one of them on the first storey with a view of the gardens in the back, Harry found himself at loose ends. He wouldn’t be meeting up with friends until Thursday, two days away. He considered napping, but there were things he was curious about that he wanted to see to first.

“Kreacher,” he called, sitting at the small breakfast table. The elf popped in, already prepared for this. His spindly arms were full of portfolios, and he dumped them on the table. More had simply landed next to Kreacher when he’d appeared.  
“These are all the pressing legal matters, Master Potter,” the elf intoned gravely, sorting them into a few neat stacks. Harry picked up a leather-bound folio dripping in wax-sealed ribbons and gave it an exasperated sigh.  
“I suppose I should get a solicitor.” Kreacher nodded at him, and Harry set it down again. “I wonder if the goblins have any good recommendations.”

Harry was nervous to return to Gringotts. His last time had been a tense, quick dash to his vault to retrieve enough funds for the year. And the time before that had been… terrifying. But Harry was a brave young man. No one could say he wasn’t. He gathered up half the stacks of folios, leaving Kreacher to retrieve the rest and follow after him. In the hall, Harry aimed himself towards the stairs to the ground floor and ran straight into another person. They both stumbled, and Harry’s stack went flying.

“Oh Merlin! I’m so sorry!” The voice was steady, androgynous, and quite surprised. Harry looked up from where he was attempting to regain the scattered files. He saw someone who was completely plain and unremarkable, the kind you forgot in a crowd. They had hair that was both blonde and brown, hazel eyes that weren’t quite green or brown, and an oval face that looked neither male or female. They were average height and build, wearing plain brown robes with a minimum of ornamentation, and utilitarian boots that could be worn for just about any profession. They knelt and started to help Harry, rather neat-handed.

“It’s fine,” he responded. “That was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

They both stood at the same time, the stranger setting a few folders on the stack in Harry’s arms. “Well, I wasn’t looking either. I suppose that makes us even. Good luck!” And with that they were gone down the hall.

Harry and Kreacher, both bemused by the stranger, trekked back up Cordi to Diagon, where they hurried across the sunny square to Gringotts. It was surreal being inside the bank, for it looked just as perfect as if the war had never happened. He was surprised when the goblin that came out to meet him was the same he’d met in the summer to get into his vault.

“Mr. Potter,” the goblin said, bowing in a purely professional way. “Redrhund, at your service. If you would follow me, I see that you have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” Harry replied, carried along with Kreacher in the goblin’s wake. They were taken to a handsome room of burnished bronze, light woods, and buttery pale leather. Harry sat in a very comfortable chair, and Kreacher, who knew Harry’s opinions by now concerning house-elf etiquette, perched on the edge of another chair.

“So,” Redrhund started, offering Harry a cup of tea. “On behalf of the goblins of Gringotts, we extend our unspecified thanks, and ask that there be no debt between us at this point.”

Harry, thinking guiltily of last spring’s heist and dragon freeing, replied, “I think that sounds like it's for the best.”

Redrhund nodded and tapped a stylus on a wax tablet. “Now, to business, as I assume that’s what you’ve come here for. I’ve been assigned to your now extensive inheritance. We haven’t had the chance for a proper chat about this, and really, now that you’ve reached your majority, there is much you need to sign for to complete the legalities.

“As it currently stands, you are both the Potter heir and the Black heir, as you should well know. You are also co-guardian of the Lupin estate with Andromeda Tonks. A few years ago, that might not have mattered much, but the war has seen the extinction of the main branch in Rome, and so the title of Lupin is to be held for the young Master Theodore until he reaches his majority.”

Harry stared at Redrhund, completely out of his depth. “Title? What do you mean?”

“It means, Mr. Potter, that as soon as the documents are signed, you will be Harry Potter, Duke of Lanka, Marquis of Celestory, Earl of Mayburgh Henge, and the most powerful single wizard in Britain, politically speaking. You will also hold the votes for the Lordship of Lupin.” The goblin eyed the stacks of folios in their laps. “And perhaps maybe some other titles are mixed up in there as well.”

Harry stared at the stack he was steadying with surprise. “What?”

Redrhund sighed. “Sometimes wizards with no satisfactory heirs will choose a public figure they prefer to be their heir. You are the most famous public figure of the last two decades. I have no doubt that you’ll find more properties and estates in those files.”

Well, that was an uncomfortable thought. Harry shifted the stack to Redrhund’s desk as if it were a bomb. “Do I… have to keep them?”

The goblin let out a surprised, grinding laugh. “That I cannot advise you on. You’re going to have to gain the services of a solicitor regardless.”

Harry seized on this like a lifeline, completely out of his depth. “Actually, I was hoping that you could recommend someone. I’m completely lost when it comes to these things.”

“What do they teach you in that school,” Redrhund sighed, exasperated. Harry supposed he wasn’t, in fact, the only pureblood or halfblood to be raised by muggles after the first war. They’d have no clue how to handle the estates. “It happens that there are solicitors whose careers are helping manage estates and public images. I believe there was one who has been groomed specifically to assist with you, arranged for on the request of a certain late headmaster.”

Shock rippled through Harry as he realized the import of those words. Had Dumbledore really arranged for someone to take care of him after the war? To assist him with all… this? And was he going to trust this person? He had to admit he was skeptical. His time without the stress of imminent doom had led to a lot of introspection. It was easier to see now that perhaps Dumbledore hadn’t had his best interests at heart. Despite Dumbledore’s past, it seemed he’d still been operating on the dubious motto of “For the Greater Good.” And Harry’s well-being and independent thought had not made the cut of items necessary for the greater good.

Still, Harry was working through trying to forgive Dumbledore. He didn’t know if he could, but he was still processing his life. Most of it seemed like a dream.

Perhaps the solicitor would be good. He could at least meet with them and find out himself. Redrhund got him the address and wished him well, making an additional appointment for a time to sign other papers.

Harry and Kreacher trekked back out of the bank, hauling the folios. They’d been directed to an office in upper Diagon, just inside of Ackchu Alley, which ran behind the bank, but had to be accessed via Splendific Alley, the so called upperclass street. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if wizards really liked puns or if it was just a compulsion.

The office was in the front of a seemingly ancient building, austere and intimidating, made of stacked stones like a castle or church. Harry looked up at it with trepidation. It had to be older than even Grimmauld. Inside, the receptionist was just as cool and elegant as the decor. She pointed him down the hall to a very solid door, which was actually open slightly. The nameplate on the door read Polaris Inkwell, Associate. He knocked, and heard a vaguely familiar voice call out, “Come in!”

He’d expected the office to be just as intimidating as the rest of the building, but was happy to find the interior a comfortable disaster. It reminded him a little of the Gryffindor common room on a weekend. And there, in the middle of the organized chaos, was the stranger from that morning. “You!” Harry exclaimed, then blushed as he realized how rude that was.

Polaris grinned brightly. “Ah! I didn’t realize all those files were for me! Welcome, welcome, have a seat.” A careless flick of their hand cleared out a chair and part of the desk, leaving space for the stacks of folios, which Harry was more than happy to set down.

“Er… I’m Harry Potter… sir?” he hazarded, guessing at the solicitor’s gender. Polaris grinned wider and shook her? head. “Ma’am?”

“Neither, actually. Just call me Polaris.” The solicitor beamed at him, and he sat in a cloud of confusion.

“Polaris. Right.” Harry looked over at Kreacher for clues, but the elf had nothing to contribute.

“I use they pronouns, Mr. Potter. I am gender neutral.”

Harry was at a loss, so he did the thing he usually did when he wasn’t sure how to respond: He ignored it. “Right, well, you might as well call me Harry, then. Redrhund said that you’ve been hired to help me out by… someone.”

“That’s true. You are my only client. I’ve spent the last seven years since I became a lawyer working for you, at the behest of said someone. In the meantime I’ve gained experience here and made myself a bit of a go-fer for the partners. It will be nice to do some proper work now.”

Harry cleared his throat and awkwardly patted one of the leather-bound stacks. “Well, um. I certainly have that. We’ve recently sorted the backlog of post, and Kreacher says this is all the legal documents. And Redrhund said that I had some paperwork to sign?”

“Excellent,” Polaris exclaimed, rubbing their hands together in glee. “First things first, though, I’d like to hear some things from you. What are your goals, Harry? How do you want the public to see you? Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve spent so long thinking I wouldn’t live to see the next ten years and hiding from the public that I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, this is Easter hols. You’ll have plenty of time to reflect. I’ll busy myself reading through these, retrieving the proper heirship papers, and drafting some PR proposals. How about I meet with you on Monday to go over all that?”

Harry nodded, a tad overwhelmed. It only caught up to him when he was outside the building that his life was about to get more complicated, but probably enjoyable if he played his cards right. He found himself smiling as he made his way down to a rather pretty restaurant on the corner to get some supper.

At the door, the maitre d’ gave him a distasteful look that Harry wasn’t quite used to. He came up short, then looked down at Kreacher. “Is there something on my face?”

Kreacher’s bony hand impacted his large, wrinkly forehead, expression pained. Harry wasn’t sure if the elf was punishing himself or just regretting his life choices. Kreacher let out a sigh. “Master Harry Potter doesn’t realize he looks homeless,” he muttered. “Whatever will Kreacher do?”

Harry looked down at himself in panic. It was true. His jeans were far too big, ratty at the bottom of each leg and with holes in the knees, cinched around his thin waist with a belt that was peeling. The jumper he was wearing, a many-washed blue-grey, was practically threadbare, showing the T-shirt underneath that was once red and was now pink, and both were a few sizes too big, which made him look like a child. Over this he’d thrown his second best school robe. Even his trainers were full of holes and an off-color.

He blushed to the tips of his ears and looked up at the man behind the podium. “I’m er… sorry.”

He backed away and trotted out off back to Diagon, where he knew he could get decent food without being treated like an escaped convict. Kreacher muttered to himself before disappearing with a soft pop.

\------

The next day was another day to spend alone. Kreacher had continued to mumble all the previous evening about the state of Harry’s wardrobe until Harry self-consciously pulled out everything but the most recent Weasley jumper, his best pair of jeans, and his school shoes. He let Kreacher take the rest of the few outfits he’d brought in his suitcase. Presumably, they were to be burned or put in the ragbin at Grimmauld. Kreacher left him with grudging orders to go shopping and get fitted out properly.

Downstairs, a petite Asian woman was busy putting out platters of wonderful-smelling breakfast foods. Fresh rolls still steamed, honey and butter were laid out in abundance, bacon, sausages, and eggs were piled high, and various drinks were put into place between the dishes.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Potter,” the witch chimed with a pleasant, high voice. She was quite adorable, if Harry was any judge. She looked young overall, save for the crow's feet beside her big eyes, which were a pretty shade of lavender. Her hair was shoulder length, curled carelessly in the bottom half, and though it was black it had a purple sheen to it in the sunlight. She was wearing a tiered skirt of cream lace, a slouchy jumper with a veritable rose garden of embroidery on it, and a short kimono type jacket thing that was printed to look like a perfectly dreamy clouded blue sky.

“Good morning,” he replied, feeling awkward. “Do I just sit anywhere?”

“Yes, do sit down please,” she said, giving him a short bow. Her accent was some flavor of Asian, but he really wasn't familiar enough to say where from. “I’m Haruka Sun. It is a pleasure to meet you. Please help yourself and let me know if there is anything you’d like to eat especially.”

He thanked her and set into eating. Only when he was almost done did he catch Madam Sun again to ask after a nice place to get outfitted.

And so it was that ten minutes later, Harry shyly slipped into Serendipitous Boutique. Unlike Madam Malkin’s, this place was full to the rafters with clothing racks. It smelled a little like the Hogwarts’ library, and honey-gold sunlight lit the multifluous colors to jewel tones. A dreamily cheerful young man came forward from the racks to greet him.

He was rather glad that he was made to feel at home here. The young man, who was named Carlisle, sat him in a lovely chair and got him tea. Only after Harry had taken a sip did Carlisle start talking business.

“So, Mr. Potter,” he said, his voice sweet and melodic, his golden curls making a halo around his head as the sun struck it. “I feel very honored that you’ve come into my shop. I’ve only opened up here a few months ago. As you can see, I have a lot of second-hand, gently used clothing. I also do my own clothing lines, personalized to the customer.”

He seemed so excited, that Harry smiled in return, picking up on that hopeful energy. At that moment, though, the shop bell announced another customer. Carlisle apologized to Harry and went to greet them. It was a beautiful young witch, and Harry vaguely recognized her from being a couple years above him at Hogwarts. She had that willowy frame and pale complexion that suggested Veela blood somewhere back in her bloodline, and bright violet eyes that gave her an innocent cast. She was accompanied by Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, whom Harry was a little wary of still. They were Slytherins, but he’d never had any poor dealings with them.

“Welcome!” Carlisle greeted, just as sweet and enthusiastic as he’d been with Harry. “I’m Carlisle, proprietor here. We have a wonderful vintage selection, as well as custom designs and tailoring. Would you like to join us for tea?”

He gestured into the shop. Harry was hidden behind a sunbeam in a shadowy nook, so he was sure they couldn’t tell his identity. His instinctive tenseness was hard to tamper down, though, so he didn’t say anything. This whole business of reinventing himself was nerve-wracking.

Thankfully, the girls ignored Harry. They tittered and giggled over Carlisle and declined the tea, then spent the next ten minutes poking through the racks. Carlisle followed after them, enduring their backhanded compliments.

“Oh, well isn’t this quaint?”

“This, perhaps, if the seventh century ever comes back into fashion.”

“Oh, Astoria, you should get this. It will hide those fat ankles of yours.”

More than anything, they seemed to be picking on Carlisle and Astoria. Whoever the third girl was, she was the nastiest of them. Finally, they breezed back out, talking loudly about how they really needed to stop wasting their time shopping in lesser stores.

Carlisle looked depressed after that. He sighed unhappily and sat back across from Harry. “Unfortunately, no one has yet asked for the custom services and not many even buy anything. I haven’t a patron influential enough to promote me.”

Harry had been used to people trying to piggyback on his fame, but Carlisle seemed to be a genuine person, with no guile whatsoever. Harry actually wanted to help, after those girls had shredded him. He grinned and picked at a split seam on his jeans. “Well, I’ve nowhere to go but up, as you can see. My house elf has ordered that I get a new wardrobe, or else. And I’m truly hopeless with these things. Think that you’re up to the task of helping me?”

It was lovely, seeing Carlisle light up. Harry had always hated his fame, but if he could use it to make someone’s dream come true, it would be worth having. Harry had never before felt such… well, he hadn’t the words for it. It was the same feeling he’d gotten from giving his World Cup winnings to the twins.

Carlisle started by picking out selections of vintage clothes that he thought Harry would like, and for the first time in his life, Harry wasn’t bored to tears shopping for clothes. Though many of the pieces were, to Harry’s eye, full of unnecessary frills and lace and gold embroidery, Carlisle assured him that he was looking for what features Harry liked and which he didn’t. After a couple outfits, the tailor managed to coax Harry into freely giving his opinion. He learned all sorts of fashion terms, for Carlisle was actually an engaging teacher. Harry found a dapper frock coat in black that Carlisle charmed the lace off. There was embroidery, but it was also in black, so the detailing of rampant lions was not as glaring as they could have been. When he slipped it on over an austere white shirt in his true size, it fit him as if it had been made for him.

Harry had come to accept that he’d never be tall. The starvation of his youth had stunted his growth permanently, and last year’s camping trip from hell hadn’t help at all either. But six months of more or less steady manual labor had filled out his shoulders nicely, buffed his arms, and genuinely made him look something like what he imagined adults looked like. Looking into the mirror, he was surprised to see not a skinny youth with overlarge eyes, but a man, grown and capable.

It took most of the day, some of it with Carlisle sketching out designs for Harry’s approval, and some of it measuring every conceivable inch of him. They had to stop for lunch even. By tea time they were finally done, and Harry had several new outfits fitted from the vintage pieces, all new underthings, cravats, ties, hats, and even a pair of sinfully lovely leather gloves.

Carlisle had actually closed up shop for lunch and gone with Harry down to a cobbler friend of his. While eating roast beef and avocado sandwiches, Harry’s feet had been measured by the cobbler’s assistant. Feeling quite eager, Harry had splurged and bought five pairs of boots, three fine dress shoe pairs, slippers, and some sports shoes. He had been surprised to learn that his feet were actually different sizes, which he learned when the cobbler had grumbled about having to spell each individual shoe to fit him.  
On top of all that, Harry had also ordered a full wardrobe of things designed especially for him. He’d even given Carlisle leave to order or buy any accessories he felt were necessary, like tie-pins and cuff links. It was a tall order, and it wouldn’t be complete until summer, when he had said he would pick it up.

And though it was nice to be in charge of his wardrobe and not look like he’d crawled out of the ragbin, Harry thought that the best part of the day had been making a new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all agreed that the first two days of Easter hols should be spent with their families, and then they would all meet up with Harry to stay in Diagon Alley for a while. Christmas had been for families. Easter was some time to be themselves, changed by the war, without revising or feeling tied to the school. Independence -- even terrified independence -- was heady and addictive.

Thursday morning Ron and Ginny Floo’d to George’s shop, then met up with Hermione in front of Gringotts. She’d come in early to finally open her own account. She’d actually started making her cunning little bottomless handbags on commission, and she had a nice little nest egg she was eager to start investing. Naturally. Hermione never did anything by halves.

Ginny was the first to actually notice Harry, and the sight of him made her gasp. Somehow his hair had been styled and tamed into a windswept look instead of perpetually bed-rumpled. New glasses with slim silver frames and smaller round lenses were perched on his nose. And the clothes! A maroon cross-breasted tail coat with black buttons on both sides of his chest and a high, rounded collar was one of the most beautiful single pieces of clothing she’d ever seen. He had on fitted black trousers tucked into mid-calf black boots with dramatic buckles up the fronts. In short, he looked magnificent and every bit the young soldier he’d been forced to be.

And rather than being mobbed by the bystanders for silly things like autographs and requests for money, people actually moved out of his way. Ron and Hermione noticed her gaze and followed it. The shock on all their faces actually made Harry laugh, and he kept laughing as he moved to join them.

“Well!” Hermione was the first to recover, and she actually started applauding him. “You look very sharp!”

“Where did you get that?” Ron, as usual, reverted to stupidity before his brain kicked in and he grinned at Harry. “And where can I get one?”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, shifting with embarrassment. “I found this nice little shop by the inn. Kreacher made me throw out all of Dudley’s cast-offs.”

“Never thought I would agree so much with that gremlin,” Ron muttered.

Harry caught Ginny’s eyes, and she felt a helpless, giddy little smile curl her lips. His eyes were so very much more green with that smooth maroon to set them off. Her heart did a flutter that she hadn’t felt in a while. Oh, it wasn’t that he was properly kitted out for the first time since the Yule Ball. It was that finally his appearance matched the amazing personality inside, and she was so happy for him. It was inspiring, really.

“Alright, Ginny?” She could sense his worry, seeking her approval too.

“Alright, Harry. You look amazing.”

The smile he gave her then was as brilliant as pulling off a daring Quidditch move properly. “Right! What are we getting up to before lunch?”

The morning turned into a shopping tour about Diagon and the side alleys. They’d all gotten compensation stipends from the government for heroism, and Ginny was eager to spend part of hers. Harry took them into Cordi Alley, which he confessed was quickly becoming his favorite area, and they spent a lot of time poking into second-hand stores and antique shops. Right before lunch, Harry took them into Serendipitous and introduced them to Carlisle, who Ginny thought was adorable.

The tailor took all their measurements and picked out some pieces. Hermione was impressed by the quality, Ron with the selection, and Ginny was pleased that the prices on some pieces were on par with the discount stores.

Ron actually found a tail coat similar to Harry’s in a burnt umbre with black embroidery of foxes, their eyes picked out in gold. Ginny could tell that her brother was impressed. Hermione watched her two best friends from across the shop, and Ginny, standing beside her, grinned. “I rather think they’re going to set the fashion for the next year at least.”

“Probably,” Hermione agreed with amusement. “I suppose we’d better set fashion beside them.”

Hermione bought a lavender sundress made of layers of floaty material, cut in an empire waist with gently puffed cap sleeves, and a pale golden cloak with large but simple ruffles. Ginny had more trouble than the others.

While there were lots of fine girls’ clothes, Ginny gravitated towards the boys’ side of things. Her fingers, callused from repair work, skimmed over frocks, tail coats, boleros, waist coats, and stiffly collared shirts. On whim, she pulled out a dark blue coat, and found it to be a most magnificent garment. It had a double-panel front with rows of small buttons down each side, black, just like the lining and the collar when it was turned over. Instead of tails, it had a long frock back, enhanced with a corset-style cinched with a black ribbon. Black paisley embroidery only made it more beautiful. Inside on the hanger was a pair of blue trousers that buttoned at the knee. Her eyes went wide.

“So that’s what you like,” Carlisle murmured right beside her. She hadn’t heard him come up, but she wasn’t startled. She just nodded.

“It’s perfect.”

“Would you like to try it on?”

“I mean… but it’s boys’ clothes!” Ginny glanced at Harry, wondering if he’d like her still if she wore this outfit, then she mentally kicked herself for such a silly thought. She firmed her chin and went for the dressing room, snagging a shirt of robin’s egg blue on the way.

After she pulled everything on, she stepped out behind the sizing curtain. Carlisle flicked his wand about, muttering spells to fit it all to her tall, skinny frame. Hermione looked in and made an impressed noise, then offered her hand to Ginny and pulled her out. Ginny’s cheeks flushed and her heart sped up, but when she saw how Harry looked at her she felt a thrill of delight.

“Merlin, Ginny,” he said with amazement. “That looks brilliant.”

Well, after a compliment like that, she had to get it. In fact, she confessed, she’d wear it out of the store if only she had the shoes for it. Harry grinned and told her he’d buy her some boots as a late birthday present. August had been so busy trying to get Hogwarts done for the beginning of the school year that her present at the time had been to take her down to Hogsmeade and buy her several drinks. The boots, on the other hand, were very much a proper gift for a seventeenth birthday, and Ginny was well chuffed to receive them.

It didn’t escape Ginny that all of them got a discount, though whether that was on Harry’s name or for their own war efforts, she didn’t know, and Carlisle didn’t say. She was well able to afford the outfit, plus some nice robes and a fine summer cloak.  
The boots she got were nearly a match to the ones Harry was wearing, except they came up to her knees. They were the kind that would last you decades if you treated them right. And while Ron and Hermione dithered about with the cobbler, Ginny dragged Harry across the street to the hairdresser.

“Ginny, what are you up to?”

“I want a haircut too. I’d do it myself but I’ve never cut it short before.”

The hairdresser was very professional, though she did make much of them. By the time she was through, Ginny had a bob cut at a dramatic angle. The front lined up with her jaw, and it went up and back, leaving a little of the back of her neck shaved a bit close. She loved it. It made her look so much more grown up. And it was lighter. She hadn’t realized before just how much her hair weighed on her head. Running her hand over the back was a tactile pleasure, and she kept doing it as they went back to the cobbler.

“Don’t worry, Ginny. If you don’t like it, it will always grow back.” Harry, she could tell, was trying to be supportive. “And I rather like it.”

“I do too,” she replied, grinning sidelong at him. She was surprised to notice that she was about an inch or two taller than him. For some reason, it set her heart racing again, and a bloom of pride and affection welled up in her chest. For so long it had been her chasing after Harry, trying to catch up with him. Now that they were both adults, perhaps that arrangement could change. They could be equals.

\-------------

Madam Fox was more than happy to make accommodations available for Harry’s friends, but as it was such short notice during one of the busier times of the year, she could only get them one additional bedroom. The elegant lady showed them to one at the front of the house on the same floor as Harry’s, then left to let them sort it out themselves. Standing in the sunny room which only had one enormous bed set into a nook, the four of them looked at each other with indecision.

Harry knew that Ginny and Hermione wouldn’t mind bunking together, and Harry was well-used to Ron’s snoring, but… after that forever camping trip, Harry was looking to relax, not relive last year. And also he wanted Ron and Hermione to be able to have some time together. 

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Ginny? You can have my bed and I’ll ask for a cot.”

Ron gave him a thumbs-up and Hermione looked minutely relieved. Ginny seemed surprised at first, but then she grinned and took his arm. “That’s most chivalrous of you, Potter,” she teased. “Thank you, I will. You two enjoy the room.”

Grinning at each other fit for mischief, Harry took Ginny down to the opposite end of the hall, leaving the brightly blushing couple to bask in their cozy new freedom. Of course, none of them would ever tell Molly about how they were sleeping. She was a busy-body on the best of days and probably wouldn’t approve of co-ed rooming.

Safely ensconced in his room, Harry flopped out on the bed and sighed. “What did you think of Carlisle?”

Ginny smiled as she sat beside him and pulled off her wonderful new boots. “He’s brilliant, Harry. I rather think he knows what he’s doing.”

“Mm. So… would you hate me terribly if I got you a new wardrobe from him?” She seemed about ready to protest, and he cut her off. “Look, Ginny. I’ve got all this money and probably more, and I don’t know what to really do with it. I’ve never really had a proper family to show me how I’m supposed to express love. I do know that you, Ron, and Hermione are my family, and that I want to lessen your worries, show you all that I care. It makes me happy to give people things, because it just spreads more happiness. I think we’ve had enough misery for five lifetimes, so please, Gin, please just accept me spoiling my family rotten.”

She fell silent, setting her second boot on the floor. He watched emotions flicker over her sharp, pretty features. Was she warring with her pride? Was she trying to be humble or modest? She glanced at him, her hazel eyes dancing a little with a hint of moisture. “So, am I like a sister to you? Is that what you mean?”

Harry frowned. They hadn’t really discussed what they were to each other yet. Their breakup had been rather sudden and unresolved, and since reuniting they’d experienced so much overwhelming things. The quiet downtime had been necessary to reprocess themselves.

“You are definitely not a sister to me.” He knew that much was true. “I still love you. I just think we need to keep things natural for now. Whatever happens, happens. I don’t want to think of labels or the opinions of other people. I just want you and me to just… be.”

Perhaps she understood what he was trying to express. Harry had never been very good with words, and Ginny knew that. He watched her puzzle around his words and between the lines. “So, you’re saying you don’t want the pressure of assumptions, yeah?”

“That sounds about right. I think we should talk if we want to try new steps.”

“I can’t argue with that,” she stated, smiling again. “So we take it slow, and enjoy this peace time.”

“Yup. So… do we really want to bother with a cot? I’m not suggesting we do… stuff. I think we can both just sleep in the same bed and do only sleeping or talking in it.”

Ginny laughed and relaxed more. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to get more intimate; he wasn’t either, so he was relieved that they were still on the same page. She readjusted herself on the bed. “So now that that’s sorted, what’ve you been up to besides getting a new wardrobe? By the way, good job there.”

“I got a solicitor,” he said brightly, proud of such a normal adult thing. “We have a meeting on Monday. Care to tag along?”

She snorted and pushed at him with her foot. “Why would you want me to come to a dull meeting like that?”

Harry shrugged and pushed back at her legs. “Well, you know a lot about pureblood wizarding stuff, yeah?” She nodded and wrinkled her nose. “There’s a lot of inheritance stuff and I don’t know how any of it works.”

She smirked and teased him for a while, but eventually she agreed.

\-------

Ginny didn’t have time to really be unnerved by her newfound independence. The four of them had dinner at a fine restaurant that night, and then spent the friday rambling about all the side alleys, exploring and making themselves familiar with all the nooks and crannies. Interestingly enough, the whole of the magical neighborhood had expanded some ways, with some of the bigger, older muggle buildings on the fringes being pulled in. Several enterprising folk had bought them and converted them into flats.

“How can Diagon expand like that,” Harry asked saturday evening, as they lingered over their curries at a place called Shangri La-la down in Cordi Alley.

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione sighed, then shook her head. She’d been trying not to be exasperated with Harry’s lack of knowledge. She’d finally realized how much stress and distraction Harry’d been driven to during his school career. “Well, Diagon has something called a foundation stone. They are powerful magic, you know. Even muggles use them with the expectation of magic; though, of course, wizarding foundation stones are much more potent. Really, I could lecture you all day about them, but you’d probably fall asleep. Maybe we should just go visit it so you can see.”

And that was how they came to be awake early on a sunday morning, which was a shame. Dressed in their new clothes, they got hot chocolate and pastries from a street vendor. The paper cups were shaped like deep goblets, and were studded with plastic gemstones. Harry even got a box of beautiful Turkish Delight and shared it around. Ginny particularly enjoy the ones flavored like violets. They all trooped down to the square in front of Gringotts and entered into a small, pillared building tucked away between the bank and a large, official looking building.

“I thought this was just a part of the bank,” Harry confessed as they entered the antechamber and bought tickets for a knut each.

“Mum and Dad took us here when we were kids,” Ron said, and Ginny shrugged.

“I don’t really remember it,” she added, accepting her ticket. Hermione was gathering up pamphlets. She already had the books, after all.

Near the door leading in further stood a smiling, elderly witch in periwinkle robes and a large-brimmed pointed hat with doves on it. She took their tickets and led them inside to a long gallery.

“Long ago, King Arthur was but a young lad, and in those times there was a sword imbedded in a stone. Merlin, in his wisdom, had placed the sword there, enchanting the stone to hold fast and stay strong until the right person came along. Everyone knows that Arthur did pull the sword out and became the true king, but legend often forgets the stone left behind. So great was the magics on it, that eventually it was placed here to be the foundation stone of the wizarding quarter of London.”

The four wandered around the room, inspecting the paintings on the walls depicting the extended history of the stone and listening to her ramble for a little while before she took them to the next room. Here was a round balcony, looking down into a room below in the middle. The open space was shimmery with a column of magenta energy, and little sparks of vivid colors swirled within it. Ginny peered over the railing, only vaguely remembering her last visit. The stone was a boulder about the same height as herself, glowing a magenta so dark it was almost black. It was a white granite, and in the top there was a barely visible cut where the sword had originally been, showing a green light in the heart of it.

“The Foundation Stone here has a life of its own. It senses the needs of the people, much like the one at Hogwarts, and changes the alleys to suit the needs. Because these changes are sometimes precognizant, we can often gage the changes coming up in the future. Recently, it has expanded the borders of our territory for more living space, we can deduce the future holds certain things.”

Hermione, always happy to know the answer regardless of whether or not she’d been asked, perked up. “More population?”

“That’s the most hopeful theory, yes,” the witch replied, smiling. “Probably muggleborn or foreign, though we are hoping for enterprising couples helping out.”

Ron and Hermione blushed at each other, but Harry and Ginny just laughed. Ginny wasn’t interested in having babies just yet. In fact, it was an uncomfortable thought for her.

The witch changed the topic now that she’d teased them, explaining how the stone was what all the wards were tied to, and it provided the magic that supported all the businesses. The stone was also the key to one of the five largest ley-line intersections in Britain. Not even Hermione had read anything more than a few references about ley-lines, even though she knew there was a whole section for it at Hogwarts’ library.

“That’s because there’s a magical lock on the subject, dear,” the old witch explained. “Hogwarts locks out subjects that aren’t taught, unless the books are put in the restricted section.”

 

Hermione balked visibly at the idea of knowledge being locked away. “Why would anyone do that?”

The old witch shrugged. “The board decides, but the reasons are usually mundane. Like lack of interest or funding, or the magic falling out of practice or practicality. Sometimes it’s because there aren’t enough teachers or students. You’d have to ask the headmistress about it.”

Ginny could see the determined look in Hermione’s eye. Oh, there was no doubt that that was now at the top of her list of things to meddle with. Hermione was almost as bad as Dumbledore had been.

They stayed for a while, observing the stone and thinking about things lost. Harry looked grim, which usually meant he was thinking hard. Ron was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, and thinking so hard Ginny was almost sure she would smell smoke any minute. Ginny stood beside Hermione and watched the stone, but not really seeing it. She was thinking about all those empty corridors and abandoned classrooms at Hogwarts, wondering what they could have been used for in the past. The power of the stone washed over and through them. Why was the student body of Hogwarts so small? When had it dwindled to only about forty students a year? That only made two hundred and eighty students on average at any given time.

Now that she thought about it, though, the fifth year was bigger than any of the years above it, and the ones that had been above her. And every year below that padded out the numbers. She’d have to check, but she was pretty sure fifth year had about fifty-five students.

It actually made some sense. During Voldemort’s first reign of terror, many couples had probably put off having kids. With his first defeat, people would have felt more safe to start or continue having kids. She would bet that ten years from now they’d have the same situation in miniature.

Inspiration struck her like lightning. Homeschooling was common in Britain only in tradition. They needed an influx of very well educated students into the wizarding world to recover. And Europe was even more devoted to homeschooling. If they could just open up enough new classes and tailor schedules to the needs and talents of students, along with an aggressive recruiting campaign, they could really do something great. She was only seventeen, but she was one of the most powerful witches in her year. And not just powerful, but smart.

She looked up. Harry’s grim look had brightened. Hermione was smiling to herself. Ron had straightened, looking brave and alight. It seemed that meditating on the stone had been good for all of them.

It turned out they’d had the same idea, or all their ideas contributed to the same goal. They discussed it while they had dinner with George that night. It was a beautiful dream, but until they all graduated it would be impossible to pursue. They were, after all, still studying.

\----------

Monday seemed to come all too soon for Harry. He still had no idea what he was about to inherit. It made him nervous, that unknown factor. Nervous enough that he woke up early and went down the hall to knock on Hermione and Ron’s door. Not even thinking, he pushed the door open right after knocking. Yelps sounded all around as Ron and Hermione scrambled to get back under the covers and Harry realized why.

“Merlin, Harry! Give a bloke a chance to answer the door!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Harry turned and closed the door while Hermione barked out privacy spells.

Harry was too embarrassed to go back into the room he was sharing with Ginny, so he went downstairs. Madam Sun was just setting out breakfast, and Harry shyly took a seat at the table. He picked up an almond croissant as she served him some juice, already aware of his preferences. Harry picked almonds off the top of the pastry until his face cooled off. 

Not long after, Ginny came down looking fresh-faced and eager for the day. She was wearing a yellow and white sundress and one of Harry’s light, brown overcoats, and her knee-high boots. It was a very fetching outfit, and Harry thought she had to be the most beautiful, vivacious witch in the world. He smiled at her, and she tipped her head.

“What?”

He shook his head and pulled out the chair next to him. “Nothing. You just look so happy.”

She almost flopped into the chair, grinning and snagging a kipper for her plate, then some rustic oatcakes that she smothered in butter and honey. “The day’s too beautiful to stay inside, but we’ve got that appointment. Are you sure you want me there only for the advice? Cause Ron could do that too.”

Harry sighed and pushed porridge around with his spoon. “That’s not the only reason. If nothing ever happens between us, I still know that I want you involved up to your eyeballs with whatever I do. I mean, if that’s something you want. Like with the Hogwarts thing.”

Ginny looked rather pleased with herself. “I’d be more than happy to. And if it starts here with this meeting, I’ll gladly forego a day outside.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, Ginny. And I hope it doesn’t take as long as all that.”

She snorted. “I bet it’ll take hours. Are Ron and Hermione coming too?”

Harry groaned as his face went red again, and he hid it in his arms. “I hope so.”

Ten minutes later, Ron and Hermione came down, not a hint of rumpledness about them. Harry was more than glad to distract them with talk about the meeting. They were due to be there at ten, and Harry had spent some time the night before writing up some of their ideas. Hermione looked like a hound on the hunt, and even Ron’s interest was perked.

They all hiked over to the law office at a quarter til, and Harry took the time to explain about his unusual solicitors pronouns and the mystery of who hired them. They arrived just about on time. It seemed that Polaris had cleaned up their office with their new project being Harry alone. Polaris smiled as Harry introduced his friends and everyone shook hands. They had to borrow two chairs from another office, and when everyone was settled, Polaris surveyed them with a quirky smile.

“Oh, Harry,” he started, and Harry twitched at the tone even as he smiled back. “Do we have a lot to go over.”

“That bad, huh?”

“First of all, it’s my sacred duty to inform you that you have in fact been confirmed with the Ministry as Lord of House Potter and House Black. You are active guardian of House Lupin.”

The other three stared at Harry, and he wiggled with discomfort. “What?”

“Harry? Why are you a Lord now?” This from Ron, of course, who hated surprises and sudden changes, and was still somewhat envious of Harry’s fame.

“Ah, I can answer that,” Polaris interjected. “The House of Potter is a very old family. It has a three-pronged power base, though, and that is uncommon and complicated. First, we have the surname of Potter that goes back almost to the Hogwarts’ Founders, and it carries only the name and no title, but great wealth. Second, the Peverell line that contributed to their magical power and social status, giving it the legitimacy of a title, Countess or Earl of Mayburgh Henge, as it passes indiscriminately between genders of heirs. And then third, the mixing in the eighteen-hundreds with the Indian noble house of Podyr that contributed the title of Duke of Lanka. This makes it the Ancient, Enlightened, and Noble House of Potter. However, that merger was heavily restricted. The Potters forfeited their ability to be the head of the family for five generations. Your father was the last to be restricted. Recently, Harry, your Indian relations were wiped out from a plague, and so the titles have been waiting for you.”

Harry sat in stunned silence. When he recovered, he burst out, “But, I don’t know how to be a Lord!”

“Worry about that later, Harry,” Ginny said, patting his hand. “For now, we’re just looking at the overview.”

After a moment of staring at her, searching her eyes, he nodded. Her opinion of him hadn’t changed at all. He looked back to Polaris. “The House of Black, I can understand, but surely Draco Malfoy would be the new Lord there. I’m just the godson.”

“That is a sticky point. Technically Draco could contest the appointment in the Wizengamot, but with his shaky standing due to his involvement with the Death Eaters, it is highly unlikely that he will. Not only that, but he already has the Malfoy title. It may be a lesser one, but it still carries clout. And at that, there is always the chance that another claimant from another branch family or married off daughter might take a stab at it. But they won’t do so once you’ve been fully invested into it.”

Harry stared at the leatherbound files on the desk, gaze caught on the texture, the stitches, while his mind tried to keep up with the new information. Did he really want that much responsibility? Better question: What could he do with all that? Best question: What did he want to do?

He took a deep breath and asked, “What… Is there the possibility of choosing another person to take the Black title?”

Polaris hesitated and tapped a nibbed pen on a blotter absently. “Well, it’s not unheard of. Our population has always made it that we’ve had to be more loose with how inheritance goes. Always there have been rights of women to retain their titles and pass them to their daughters. There are numerous cases in history of nobles choosing heirs outside their bloodline, as is the case here. The intent is usually two different situations. The first is to bind the legacy of a lesser title with the prestige of a greater one, in the hopes that it will be renewed when it is passed to the new heir’s children. The second is to gift an extra title a noble might have to someone deserving in their service or in recognition of great public service, like that stack there.”

Harry looked at the stack as if it were a scorpion. The other three stared at it as well. It was not a small stack.

“H-how many titles do I have?”

Polaris took a deep breath. “Excluding the Potter and Black titles? Fifteen.”

Harry paled, and Ron burst into laughter. “One for every year you’ve been alive, mate!”

Hermione was looking rather appalled, and Harry could understand that. Harry was about ready to throw up. Ginny just looked contemplative. He wondered what she was thinking.

“That…,” Harry managed, then swallowed tightly. “That is too many titles for one person.”

“I agree,” Polaris replied gravely. “None of them are greater titles than Potter or Black. I doubt that you will have eighteen children, besides.”

Letting out some strained laughter, Harry put his face into his hands. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what to do with one title. How the hell am I going to cope with more?”

He felt Ginny’s hand rest on his back, rubbing gently, and he relaxed immediately. She was so soothing to his soul. “Harry, you don’t have to decide just yet.”

“Quite right, Miss Weasley. The important thing now is to be invested as Duke of Lanka and Earl of Mayburgh Henge, the Potter titles, and also Marquis of Celestory, the Black title. Once you have staked that claim, you can decide what to do with the rest.”

Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself slowly. Somehow this seemed so much more scary than facing Voldemort. Why, he didn’t know. “Right. Right. Let’s do that, then.”

“Besides titles, what else has he been willed?” Blessed Ginny, moving things along.

Polaris pulled out a scroll and unrolled it on their desk, weighting the corners down with cast bronze owls. “There are twenty-two properties, ten businesses, eleven vaults, three patents, six collections, seventeen magical creatures of excellent breeding, eight house-elves, four wands, and a ship.”

“A ship?” Harry’s voice was strained.

Polaris looked quite cheerful. “Mhmm! And then there's the stocks and bonds purchased or donated in your name. Honestly, Harry, the wizarding world is very grateful to you. Some people didn't think a simple thanks and a handshake quite covered it.”

“I'm beginning to notice,” Harry replied dryly. He sighed and found himself leaning into Ginny for stability.

“Then there’s the things dedicated to your name. I believe one of the Knight Busses has your name on a placard.” Polaris chuckled, then got back to business. “Well, other than that, we spoke last time about your goals. Have you thought of anything you’d like to do?”

Now Harry felt like he was on more stable ground. This was something he was much more willing to discuss. “Yes. We all have, in fact. I can’t see my life without Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, so we’ve worked on it together.”

They all fished out their scrolls and piled them on the desk. Harry almost laughed aloud; they humorously looked like a stack of essays on a professor’s desk. “We want to work towards the betterment of Hogwarts and students. We’ve recently discovered that a lot of classes and knowledge has been lost or limited due to lack of funding and decisions of long dead members of the Board of Governors. Not only that, but I’ve noticed that a lot of the school’s supplies were old and outdated even before the restoration. It also occurred to us that the present professors and temporary staff could do a much better job if they had assistant teachers to help with the lower years.

“Once we graduate, I’d like to donate some money to Hogwarts, to help update the curriculum as much as possible.” Harry smiled hesitantly, hoping that was something he could do.

Polaris looked at them consideringly for several moments, then smiled fit to reach their eyes. “That, Harry, is a wonderful goal, and I’m very proud to hear it. It has been a long time since Hogwarts was overhauled. I believe that many families actually send their children to Beauxbatons because it has a more thorough education. If Hogwarts becomes a finer institution, I believe it will increase the number of students. Donating as much as I think you plan on also means that you would be on the Board of Governors. Maybe even Chairman.”

“Oh, Chairman!” Hermione gushed, grinning at Harry. Of course she’d be excited. Hermione loved change and the ability to do the changing.

Ginny, however, looked pensive. “You’ve got to be careful though, Harry. If you change things too fast or don’t look to tradition at all, you could have a fight from the other governors.”

“That’s true.” Polaris peeked at Hermione’s scroll and their eyebrows went up. “I see that you hope to be aggressive with your changes. I would hope, however, that you would take it slowly. Not only is this a very big change, it will be very expensive. I’m keenly aware of your finances, and I believe that long-term you could fund most of this, but I would advise you not to spend too much on the school. I recommend instead working to change the minds of the Department of Magical Education in regards to the budget. It may be that you even have to go as far as the Minister and the Wizengamot to get an increased budget.

“Of course, this can’t happen until you are invested into your major titles. You will be holding four seats for the next sixteen years, until Theodore Tonks is of age, so I suggest you take advantage of that. Those four seats are major ones. Your opinion will be courted. You should research who courts you, and what you will be courted with, and vote on some small things to get the hang of it.”

“I see.” Harry sighed heavily. “Well, it looks like I’m going to be a politician then.”

“But is that what you want, Harry?” Ron was looking at him with concern. “I mean, didn’t you say you wanted to be an Auror?”

Harry thinned his lips. It was true that in sixth year that had been his tentative goal, but he was definitely tired now of war, violence, and adrenaline. “Sorry, Ron. I just don’t think I have the strength for it anymore.”

Ron nodded, and Harry was grateful that for once Ron wasn’t getting angry about a sudden change. It was another weight off his mind. “I still want to help people, but I want it to be more calm. I do hope you’ll stick with it, though, if you still want to.”

Harry was happy to see Ron’s fierce grin. Ron would definitely be pursuing that, and Harry was happy for him. Hermione had a stubborn look in her eye, the same look she’d gotten about house-elves and such. It was doubtless that she was going to be his greatest ally in this whole politics thing.

“You’ve got a good goal here, Harry,” Polaris continued. “And you’re going to have to alter some of your habits to be taken seriously. I see that you’ve already changed the way you dress and look. Very fetching. Now, since you want to try for the politics, I’ve got some books for you to read. You’ll need to know the basics. I know you’ve got your N.E.W.T.s coming up, so don’t stress over it too much. Although…”

Polaris hesitated and thinned their lips.

“Although this summer’s Wizengamot session is the most important one since the battle,” Ginny murmured, finishing Polaris’ sentence that had been left hanging.

“All the temporary members have given over to those properly elected or who inherited after the upheaval. A lot of new policies are being submitted for review and vote. This is the time to begin.” Polaris looked at him consideringly.

Harry thought about what was ahead of him. If he wanted to enact the changes he dreamed of, he had a lot of work coming up. The Ministry had already said that he didn’t have to sit his N.E.W.T.s if he didn’t want to. The world was open to him regardless. Harry knew from experience, though, that the public could and would turn on him at the first chance they got, so he was determined to do things in the proper order so that they couldn’t use his lack of N.E.W.T.s against him later on.

But he wanted so much to get a jump start on this, while the memory of his deeds were still fresh. He could make real, good change. How could he work to get the best marks in school, but also work on making laws he had no idea how to make. He couldn’t ask Hermione; she was far busier than anyone with her obsession with personal perfection. Ron wouldn’t give it the proper type of attention, though Harry had no doubt Ron could look at the rough drafts and figure out the sneaky bits that would give them the advantage. And Ginny, well, she would help. He knew she would if he asked her. But all of them were inexperienced and out of their depth here.

He looked up at Polaris. Inspiration struck like lightning. If Harry didn’t have the time to become perfect, he should hire someone that was. He smirked slowly. “Polaris. Do you happen to know anyone experienced in law writing that would mesh well with what we need?”

Polaris looked pleased. “You know, I think I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny beamed with pride as Harry signed the inheritance papers for the Potter and Black families. Hermione signed as witness, being the most formidable mind they had with them. Ron also signed as a pureblood witness, which was necessary for the Black one, surprising no one. Polaris signed as notary.

The only thing needed now was to visit the prime properties of each title to be accepted by the wards. Harry wanted to get the whole thing over with quickly, but as it was he could only get access to two of the properties easily. And while he hesitated to see both much neglected properties, he knew he had to do it. When had he ever backed down from an important challenge?

Polaris suggested that they all go to Mayburgh Henge first. Since the village of Eamont Bridge was nearby and boasted some pubs, they all decided that would be the best place to stop and eat at. After all that new information Harry had endured, Ginny thought it would be nice for him to have some normalcy.

They went back to their inn to dress as normal and muggley as they could, which wasn’t too hard. Harry put on some nice trousers and a pressed shirt, and over top one of Mum’s famous jumpers. Ginny went for her nicer jeans, and layered one of her favorite band T-shirts with a tight jumper with fat blue and green stripes, that clung only enough to make her feel secure with the world. Over the past few days, they’d become very comfortable with seeing each other without most clothes. Oh, they kept on underwear, and, in Ginny’s case, her perpetual use of sports bras, but the embarrassment over each other had ended with the agreement of their casual relationship.

Harry even brushed Ginny’s hair out, short as it was. It was still springy and sleek from her visit to the hairdresser, and she liked the way he petted it between brush strokes. It seemed he was rather fascinated with it, and it made her smile.

Out in the hallway, Hermione had obviously dressed Ron up in a dark purple buttondown and the black sweatervest she’d gotten him for Christmas. The dark jeans he had on actually made him look even taller, and the shirt and vest made him look serious and competent. Or maybe that was just something Ginny hadn’t had time to notice about him.

Hermione was wearing a pink tank top with a pistachio green sheer blouse, covered with a thick, cream embroidery of leaves, and a pair of pastel pink jeans with more of that cream embroidery on it, mostly on the legs and back pockets. Luckily, she wasn’t wearing those horrid wedge shoes that were in muggle fashion right now, instead choosing practical flats. Her wonderfully kinked, curling hair was smoothed on top of her head by a severe metal headband decorated with pink enamel flowers, and the rest of the poof left wild behind her. A taste of gold eyeshadow popped on her dark skin and made her eyes look amazing. Ginny envied her her ability to look feminine so easily.

They all went down to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Polaris, who was waiting for them just out front on the muggle side of things. They were wearing a heather-grey jumper over a periwinkle blue collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up around their elbows, and a broomstick skirt of a subdued fade from dusty rose to the same periwinkle around the bottom. Brown boots poked out from underneath. It took a moment to get used to.

“What,” Polaris said, smirking at them. “A wix can’t wear a skirt?”

“A what?” Ron asked, predictably putting his foot straight into his mouth. Ginny was convinced it was reflex by now.

Hermione smacked Ron on the arm. “A wix isn’t a wizard or a witch, you idiot. Be more polite.”

“That’s correct. I am neither witch nor wizard, but I am a wix. I suppose one might call it in between the two, or separate entirely.” Polaris moved to the edge of the sidewalk. “Anyways, we probably should take a Knight Bus. It’s too far to ride by broom, there’s no floo nearby, and I don’t think it’s wise to apparate that far without previous knowledge of the site.”

Polaris pulled out a lovely ash wand and stuck it out off the kerb, then pulled it in and stepped back. With its usual sudden bang, the violently purple bus popped into existence in front of them. Ginny knew from reading papers that the previous staff of the bus had retired after the ordeals of the war. What she hadn’t expected was for the doors to open on her ex-boyfriend, Michael Corner.

Evidently he hadn’t expected her either, and he broke off in the middle of his bored announcement of fees to say, “Ginny?”

“Er… Hi Michael.” She shifted awkwardly.

“Wow, you look great!” Corner beamed. He didn’t look bad himself, his wavy black hair held back in a tail, his pale blue eyes striking. He looked very fit and professional in his uniform, but Ginny could only admit to appreciating him aesthetically.  
Corner looked around at all of them. “Well, welcome. Come on in. I’m sure you all know the score.”

The inside of the bus was much changed. Brilliant red fabrics and golden fixtures made the lower level look like the Gryffindor common room. Instead of haphazard chairs, there were booths of benches, over-padded and comfortable looking, surrounding tables of dark oak wood. There were hardwood floors to match, and right behind the driver’s seat was a bronze cage for luggage. The driver was a diminutive Asian witch with pince-nez glasses and a bowler hat, roughly in her forties. She wore a crisp, white, puff-sleeved button-up, a short black tie, and a long, black pencil skirt edged in ruffles. Black high-heels rested against the pedals, which Ginny was sure there were too much of.

The driver said nothing to them, just followed them with a flat, unimpressed gaze until they paid Corner. Then she mucked about with levers and pedals, making the bus jerk to a start. Everyone lunged for the nearest booth and safety, and Corner laughed, holding on lightly to a crossbar overhead.

Ginny glared at him, especially when the expected wild ride never came. The initial lurch steadied out into a smoother ride than she’d ever gotten out of the Knight Bus.

“Why, it’s like being on a boat,” Hermione exclaimed. The gentle rocking and sense of forward inertia was actually pleasant. It was spoiled somewhat with Corner hovering over Ginny wanting to “catch up” after the battle. He’d dropped out, and Ginny hadn’t even really noticed him being absent. His pawing questions set her temper on edge, making her remember why she’d broken it off with him to begin with. Even the rest of their group looked uncomfortable with him.

The Bus stopped off on the other side of London, and they all made a break for it while Corner was distracted, heading up the spiral staircase. Here was another change, for the second level had been converted into a dining area. The front quarter of the bus, overhanging the driver’s section, was now a little cafe kitchen and counter. A matronly witch with a large blonde bun sat on a stool, presiding over a pastry case and coffee machines. The rest of the level was set up like a homey country dining room, with rustic tables, wooden benches, and mismatched chairs. 

A group of parents and children took up the back half of the tables, so they ordered some refreshing drinks and went up further to the top level. It was possibly the most pleasant room, light and airy, with big windows and superbly comfortable couches, low bookshelves and braided rugs. They sat in the U-shape of couches in the front and watched the world go racing by. Ginny sipped her rose-lavender soda and enjoyed the line of Harry’s warmth on the left side of her body.

“I thought your family was from Godric’s Hollow, Harry,” Ron pointed out, relaxed, one arm draped over Hermione’s shoulders.

Polaris, briefcase at their feet and a juice of sweet cucumber and green tea in their hand, elaborated, because it seemed that even Harry was confused about the situation. “Well, the lands associated with the titles are Mayburgh Henge and Lanka. But like most noble houses, they own many properties. Godric’s Hollow is an ancestral house, much like Grimmauld Place is, but they aren’t the titled lands.”

“But why does a title need such a large property?” Harry fidgeted with his bottle of butterbeer.

“Because unlike muggles, we still work the old fashioned way. Muggles are industrial, mass producing their products, with everyone out for themselves. We’re still a bit feudal. Craftsmanship is prized and even necessary in every field. We don’t have enough population to justify industrialization. So nobles can still make a living with large land properties.”

Hermione frowned. “But are people tied to the land like in feudalism?”

“Not at all. And that is what makes the system work so well. Nobles are kept from abusing people in that everyone is free to leave a property if they wish. It’s up to the nobles to provide a safe, happy place for people to work and live. They have to make sure that the muggles on their land do not become suspicious. And sometimes nobles without strong families or priorities will just leave the titled land to fallow and spend their ancestor’s money while living elsewhere. It takes work to maintain those lands, but the rewards are well worth it. You may be rich, Harry, but people will judge you by your integrity after the blush of fame wears off.”

Harry nodded, and Ginny could see him thinking it through. His life now had a radically different set of expectations, and he was trying to change the way he thought to fit that.

“I’m going to have to hire a lot of people to help me with this, aren’t I?”

Polaris nodded. “I would recommend a combo of pureblood and muggleborn. I think a modern castle needs a modern team. Blending the traditional with the progressive is a wonderful stance.”

“I like the way you think, Polaris,” Harry murmured.

\---------

They arrived at the town of Penrith a little after noon and caught a taxi out to Eamont Bridge, which really wasn’t all that far. They could have walked it, really, but Harry was eager to see the castle. They all were. The driver dropped them in front of The Beehive Inn, a pretty pub in a white two level building. 

While Polaris paid their fare with muggle money, the four made their way inside the homey pub and got a table. The food was good and the atmosphere better. They mused about the condition of the castle and Polaris mentioned that they had a list of assets on the property, but that it would be best read out when they got there.

After lunch they took themselves outside and made their way down to Lowther Glen, a road on the southern edge of town. The village was tiny, especially compared to Penrith. Mayburgh Castle was to the northeast of Eamont Bridge, directly on a line with Penrith and Brougham Castles in the middle of a field. Midway through the lane, they hopped the fence onto a foot track and moved on down the other side of a hedge, out into a field.

A cool breeze blew in as they headed for the edge of a wood. Polaris murmured a wandless warming charm around them all, and Harry wondered if he would ever be able to do such things consistently. He walked out in front of the group, pondering, and came up suddenly short just as they rounded an outcropping of ash trees and blackberries.

Magic tingled over his skin, like fairy fingers seeking all over him. He took a deep breath, waiting to see what the magic wanted, and after several tense moments, the magic relaxed and gave him a welcoming warmth.

“Harry? Did the wards accept you?” Polaris had kept the rest back. Harry grinned at them and held out his hand to Ginny, who took it without reservation. Ginny took Ron’s hand, and Ron took Hermione’s. Bringing up the rear, Polaris snagged Hermione’s hand and laughed as he was pulled under the friendly wards.

Inside the wards now, they released their hands and Polaris pointed them onto an overgrown track that led into the woods. It was a good forest, ancient and secretive, with plenty of sunbeams. The magic in it was apparent and felt good on Harry’s skin. He was utterly sure that magical creatures lived in this wood, and he already looked forward to becoming familiar with them.

When they did break from the woods, the view was spectacular. A wide plain of beautiful new grass swept up to a hill wide enough to encompass the castle and curtain wall. Three towers of different sizes appeared to be clustered in the center, and an huge roof suggested a great hall. The curtain wall had short defensive towers on it, but there were places where it had crumbled. Behind it all was the Eamont River, curling around three sides of the land.

“Woah,” Harry breathed, utterly amazed.

Ron laughed. “Mate, can we live with you this summer?”

“Sure, Ron.” He grinned at Ron, feeling mischievous. “I’m going to need help fixing it up.”

Ron groaned and tried to take it back, but in the end agreed. They’d all gotten very skilled at reconstruction magic from Hogwarts and Diagon, so it was natural to want to help Harry with this. They hiked across the field and around the hill, looking for the entrance. They found it facing the river on the east side, looking at the deepest bend of the river and in the general direction of Brougham Castle. 

The entrance in the curtain wall was partially crumpled, but there was enough space for them to enter with two people side-by-side. The doors were completely gone, with only some rusted, twisted metal to say that it had ever been there. The courtyard flagstones were cracked and covered in moss, and stones from the wall had settled around the perimeter.

“Merlin, the well’s filled in,” Hermione bemoaned, peering down into a large circle of stones with a collapsed roof. 

Ginny announced, “There’s stables over here, but I think there’s a ghoul in the back or something. And the roof’s gone.”

Ron whistled, looking up at the front of the castle. Harry was just as mesmerized. The facade was curved inward, covered over in ivy with lovely gargoyles on top, three levels up. Three shallow steps led up to the doors, the paint only just beginning to peel. Here was where he could feel a better vibrancy of magic, as if the castle itself had drawn itself in over time, and was now curled protectively around the core of its being.

Harry mounted the deep, wide steps, putting a hand on the door. It creaked open at his touch into a dusty foyer with a large, straightforward staircase. Lamps sputtered to weak light, sparking as dust burned off. There was almost no natural light at this point in the day, and even with the lamps it was difficult to see too far into the space. Harry lit his wand with a lumos and peered into the gloom. He saw many frames already, with flutters of movement, but interestingly it didn’t give the same impression of Hogwarts. Up above was a magnificent crystal chandelier, dripping in cobwebs.

They spent the next few hours exploring the castle. The towers needed reinforcement, and there were several cracked and broken windows. From one of the upper storeys, they could look out over the wall and see the broken foundations of a little village around the north side of the hill, down towards the river. Overall, it needed a lot of cleaning and repairs, but it wasn’t as bad as Hogwarts had been, nor what Harry had feared.

Harry called for Kreacher when they got to the kitchens, politely asking him to clean them. Polaris made the mistake of suggesting that Harry get some more house-elves and had to endure Hermione’s speech on rights and such, until Polaris got angry with her.   
“Young lady,” they barked when her temper started to get out of control. “What on earth are you on about? You can’t just do that to house-elves. Don’t you know anything about the fair folk?”

Hermione, for once, shut her mouth, looking at Polaris in shock.

“House-elves, also known as brownies, are of the fair folk. They have their own rules and ways. Haven’t you ever heard the tale of the Cobbler?”

“I… well, yes, of course I have. But that’s just a fairy tale.”

“Precisely. It is a story that teaches children the rules that govern house-elves. Money is the most dire insult to them. They are of the earth and nature. You can’t just give them processed things. All they want is milk and honey, natural things, and in exchange they get to exercise their magic in a useful way that makes them feel superior to us.” Polaris sighed and shook their head, while Kreacher folded his spindly arms and nodded grumpily. “There really does need to be courses on these things at Hogwarts.”

Harry watched Hermione’s lips thin stubbornly. She had something to think about now, but it didn’t look as if she was giving up completely. He decided to change the subject while he could. “You mentioned something about the assets of the property earlier?”

“Ah! Yes, quite right.” Polaris got into their briefcase and dug around. They pulled out a folder and set the briefcase to hovering while they looked through the folder. “Well, there’s the forest, of course. It contains several good wand trees, a herd of unicorns, some mooncalves, a vast herd of horses on the unplottable parts with rumors of porlocks, and there is supposedly a central hearth somewhere that contains salamander eggs. The forest is also supposed to have many good staples and rarities in potions plants.”

“So which parts are unplottable?”

Polaris flipped more pages, then brought out a large map and spread it on the nearest table, which Kreacher had just cleaned off. Already the kitchen looked better, with Kreacher disappearing dust and cleaning the lamps to make the light clearer and stronger. The map showed half of Penrith, but only the castle there was shown, up in the left corner. In the middle of the right edge was the one at Brougham. Both had tiny drawings showing them to be partial ruins. Directly between them was Mayburgh Castle.

“This is the only map detailing the unplottable lands, part of your family’s heirlooms, though it has only ever been in the hands of the hired solicitor for the family. On any other map, these lands don’t show up.” Polaris circled a large piece of land with one finger. It was surrounded by the forest, the thickest part being along the south and east, beside the River Lowther. “The woods are the key here. Muggles and uninvited guests would just go in the far side and come out near the castle. It used to be that these lands held massive farms, and then they were turned over to more profitable pasturage. When the lands were left to fallow due to the merger, the prized horses were let to go wild, but they can’t leave the property.”

“What’s this here?” Ginny asked, pointing to a series of circles in a dark spot that cupped the north side of the lands.

“Caves, I think. And there’s another henge here in the deepest part of the forest. That’s the Greater Mayburgh Henge. The one outside of Eamont Bridge is the lesser one. I believe the stones here might still be standing.”

“That means that the muggles know about the castle, then?” Harry had noticed that a third of the property wasn’t unplottable, and that included the castle.

“Yes. I asked around the village and in Penrith, and they’ve always considered it to be something of a mascot. It’s private property still, so they can’t make it into an Heritage site like in Penrith or Brougham, and no one goes up here because to them it looks more unstable than it is. Not even kids try it, though they do poke around the village ruins.”

“Hmm… Well, I’d like to post some private property notices, stating that it’s to be a work site. We’ll have to hire a crane, if only for show, and hire an illusionist to make it look like it’s being worked on.” Harry sighed and crossed his arms. “They’re probably going to want to meet me, a small village like that getting something new and loud.”

They all chuckled at that, because they all knew it was true. Harry smiled wryly and continued on, “So do we need permits from the Ministry to get this all handled properly?”

“I’m afraid we do. They can’t really stop you from doing what you like on your land, but they can fine you for not having the proper secrecy measures. I’ll get started on that and they should be ready by the time summer comes along. If sooner, I’ll get that crane and illusionist to make it look as if it’s getting to the point it’s actually at.”

“Great! I’ll leave it to you, then. Hire what you need. Oh, I should probably give you my vault key.”

“I think it would be more proper if you opened a trust vault for me after you’ve had a look around all the ones attached to your titles. You’re Earl of Mayburgh Henge now, but you haven’t been accepted by the other two yet. Those all come with vaults.”

“Bugger…,” Harry muttered. What was he going to do with all these vaults? And if they went to each property a day, and then vault exploring the day after that, then Ginny would be going back to Hogwarts the day after. Eighth years had an extra week off. “Lets just worry about this property until Thursday when Ginny goes back. She’s still got revisions to do and we all wanted some actual holiday time together. Friday we’ll start work on the rest of it.”

“As you wish,” Polaris stated, putting papers away.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and sipped the tea that Kreacher handed him, thanking the elf as was his habit. While they had been talking, Kreacher had actually made good progress. The hearth was cleaned out and a merry little fire was crackling away in it. The surfaces were free of dust if not the dug in grime, and the cobwebs were more or less gone from the rafters. Polaris was right, though. He’d need to get more house-elves. Kreacher didn’t really like being away from Grimmauld, and for all that he took care of Harry like a butler, their personalities weren’t really matched.

He decided to do that before the end of his holidays. If he could wedge it in somewhere.

\--------

The next day found them at Gringotts again, this time to exchange some of their money into muggle currency. The four of them were to meet up with some friends in muggle London to do some exploring and shopping. They got on the tube nearest to The Leaky Cauldron and made their way over to Carnaby Street, where they met up with Dean, Seamus, the Patil twins, and a girl from Gryffindor and Harry’s year named Renée Runcorn. Ginny only knew her by accident. She’d always been a quiet, aloof girl, more inclined to stay in her dorm, though she had often associated with purebloods and halfbloods. She and Ginny had talked at the Yule Ball, and studied quietly together occasionally.

Renée was a friend of the Patils’, and the twins made much of Renée’s agreeing to attend a social outing. The girl blushed, her dusky cheeks warming as she tightened her lips and refused to look up. Ginny sighed and went over to link arms with her. “It’s so nice to have you along, Renée.”

Renée nodded, only glancing at Ginny briefly, and followed along as the group wandered up and down the streets of the shopping district. Dean led them about, and Renée slowly opened up, venturing opinions and eventually helping Harry figure out a few good suits for being impressive in front of the muggles.

They’d all been aware of Albert Runcorn’s arrest for Death Eater activities, but it wasn’t until they settled into a back corner booth at one of the pubs that they learned the rest of the story. Renée had suspected an awkwardness between them and broached the topic herself as they sipped their drinks after most of the food was finished.

“I don’t know why you’re all being so nice to me,” she murmured, looking at her hands. “My dad’s in Azkaban for being a horrible Death Eater.”

“But that has nothing to do with you!” Parvati exclaimed. “You never knew he was one of them until he got so active last year.”

“I suppose. He was always so secretive about his work, but he was very good to us, me and my sisters.”

“And the court agreed with you there,” Padma put in logically. “He’s been stripped of everything, but at least it went to you rather than the Ministry.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Ginny said, patting Renée’s hand.

Renée straightened and nodded. “Yes, well, at least there’s that, and that I’m of age and can inherit. Otherwise it would have gone to my uncle, and I don’t trust him.”

Hermione sighed. “So you’re new nobility just like Harry, then?”

“And Neville,” Dean pointed out. “A lot of our year and Ginny’s year are now the heads of noble families.”

Harry perked up a little. “Oh? Who?”

“Well, there’s Morag MacDougal, yeah?” Seamus gestured with his bottle. “Her great aunt was the head, but she passed on just before the war started.”

“Susan Bones and Kevin Entwhistle from Hufflepuff,” Ron said, surprising them all. “I heard Dad talking about Susan. She inherited from her aunt, too.”

They all were quiet a moment, remembering the late, great Madam Amelia Bones. Harry was the first to raise his glass. “To Madam Bones.”

“Madam Bones,” they all intoned together, tipping out a little of their drinks onto their plates, then finishing them off.

“There’s a few in my year, but the only one old enough to inherit is Emma Vane,” Ginny said, blowing out with exasperation as Ron groaned. He wasn’t much fond of Emma’s younger sister Romilda after that whole love potion disaster.

“And Emma isn’t the only Slytherin. Theodore Nott and Millicent Bullstrode inherited too after their parents were imprisoned,” Padma informed them. “Theodore’s got the title, but since he couldn’t prove one way or another that he didn’t have Death Eater sympathies, a lot of his fortune was confiscated and put towards the war reparations. Milly’s family got off lightly, though. Don’t know how.”

“Padma’s been following the trials in the papers,” Parvati stage whispered.

“So it’s Milly now, is it?”

“Shut it, Ron,” Parvati fired back. “Milly’s not so bad. We’ve been potions partners a few times now.”

“Okay, guys. I want to know some things,” Harry interrupted, leaning forward. “I’m still trying to learn about all this, but I’ve spent my whole life trying to survive. Now I’m expected to be in charge of lands and people. I just don’t know what to do.”

It was Renée’s turn to perk up. “I can help you with that. I’ve been steeped in this stuff all my life. I can school you in the mannerisms and customs.”

Harry groaned and put his head on the table. “More lessons.”

“And your first lesson is this,” she said, voice sharp. “When someone graciously offers to teach you something for free, you thank them, no matter how distasteful you feel it is.”

Most of the group snickered as Harry turned bright red. Ginny patted his back unsympathetically, and everyone was prevented from pursuing it further by the arrival of refills for their drinks. Before they left, Harry lagged back with Renée, Ginny assumed to apologize and thank her. Harry could be as oblivious as Ron, but he wasn’t as rude as her idiot brother.

The whole lot of them piled into the underground, to the continued bafflement of some of those who’d never lived among muggles. The Patil twins actually had a good grasp of it, confessing that their parents had been sticklers to blending in in the muggle world. Renée was the most baffled, and Ginny had to admit she still hated being underground despite having been on them before with her father.

At Notting Hill Gate they met Neville and Luna, who lightened the mood considerably. Luna was most excited to show them some shops that catered to muggle witchcraft. The whole lot of them were amazed and amused by the selection of products. Hermione raided the bookshelves, predictably, muttering about comparative studies. Apparently she’d never studied witchcraft before she was told she was one.

Ginny bought a bunch of pretty stones, enamored by the colors and sparkliness. Ron got a shark-tooth necklace. Harry, on the advice of Renée, got a tie pin with a large tourmaline on it. Neville raided the herbs section, finding some rather nice things that were, weirdly enough, difficult to get in the wizarding markets. Luna bought flower crowns for all the girls save Ginny.

Ginny was confused until Luna put laurel crowns on Ginny and all the boys. Everyone chalked it up to Luna being Luna. She even told Ginny that the pretty green leaves looked better with her red hair.

Everyone indulged in sweet treats as they walked along in the afternoon sunshine, talking and laughing, sharing stories and making jokes. Ginny counted herself lucky to have such a group of friends, feeling an inner glow of warmth and joy. She focused on memorizing the feeling for the future, sure that it was not only a wonderful memory to keep, but that it would fuel a perfect patronus, too.

No one wanted it to end, so the outing continued on to dinner. The Patil twins led them to a curry place run by a squib cousin, who put them in a private room decorated to the nines. Over delicious entrees, fresh naan, gorgeous rice, and amazing lassi, they chatted and played guessing games. Even Renée unwound and was just as boisterous as the rest. Ginny was actually sad to see her go just after sunset.

Padma left next, stating that she had revisions to do, and if Parvati wanted to spend her last day of hols cramming that was her choice. Parvati was so delighted that she ushered everyone back to Diagon so that she could buy them a round of something stronger than butterbeer. It took a lot to get wizarding folk more than tipsy.

It was the first time in Ginny’s life getting drunk. The warmth and good feeling that suffused her was set off a little by disliking the loss of control and the weird feeling in her stomach. But it made everyone laugh and express themselves more, so she didn’t mind. It was good to cap off the night that way.

She was afraid she’d get completely out of control and shag Harry. He did look very fetching, his green eyes alight, laughing more freely than she’d ever seen. They said their goodbyes to their friends and the four meandered back to their inn. The room felt too hot, so Ginny stripped down to her underwear and climbed into bed. Her head felt light and spinny.

“I don’t think I like alcohol all that much,” she muttered as Harry kicked out of his shoes. He laughed softly and shucked everything but his shirt and underwear.

“I dunno. It’s kinda nice.” He flopped on the bed face-down, his arm coming to rest along her side. She smiled and stretched her toes out, wiggling them. She could see how Harry would like the world to be blunted. The world was a lot to deal with when it had been trying to kill you for seventeen years.

“It’s nice not to be fighting,” he murmured, echoing her thoughts. “No Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no dragons or giant snakes. And especially no Dursleys!”

Ginny spluttered and laughed. “Voldemort doesn’t rank number one?”

He lifted his head and treated her to a puzzled glare, making her laughter freeze. “Harry, what is it?”

He folded his arms and rested his chin on them. “It’s okay. You wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?” Now she was really concerned, rolling onto her side to give him a searching look.

He was quiet for a while, and she thought he might not speak again tonight. When he did answer it was soft and hesitant, almost like a child. “My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to Harry Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs. It was a tiny broom cupboard and I’d slept in it for as long as I could remember.”

Ginny was horrified just at that, and the horror grew as he went on, pouring out all the terrible, abusive things his relatives ever did to him. The list was long. Starvation, calling him names, making him cook and clean and care for the garden, those were almost the least of it. They hit him, they isolated him, they punished him for everything, and they made him feel like less than human.

“Harry… That’s abuse!” she finally exclaimed softly. Harry just shrugged.

“I mean… I guess it was a bit extreme. I just never thought about it that way. I thought that I just deserved it.”

“No, Harry.” Ginny’s heart ached for him so badly. “No, you don’t deserve that. No one deserves to be treated that way.”

Harry took a shuddering breath and clenched his hands. Ginny felt bad that she’d never known this before. The signs were all there, what with her brothers having to rescue him from a barred window, Mum sending so much food (but didn’t she do that to everyone?), Harry always looking so thin and tired after coming back to school, and a hundred other little things.

“Harry.” She put a hand on his back carefully. “You deserve good things. You deserve love and happiness, people that care about you, respect for the deeds you’ve done. No one should ever, ever treat you or any kid like that.”

She watched him hunch in on himself and it sounded as if he was fighting tears. “You know that Ron and Hermione love you, right?”

He nodded tightly.

“And my parents and brothers love you too.” Another nod. “And I love you too, Harry. I want to guard your heart against all those bad things. Is that okay?”

Harry nodded more enthusiastically and sniffled, finally leaning into her. Ginny wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly while he let out a lot of tears and pent up hurt. His body shuddered with sobs, and at one point he got so angry that he punched a pillow. Instead of chastising him, which she thought he expected, she chuckled and levitated the pillow so he could punch it some more. He was probably imagining his horrid relatives in the pillow, and she rather thought she’d like to do the same.  
Eventually he calmed down, and Ginny held him while the moonlight shone in over them through the gabled window. She watched it, trying to remember what phase they were at. Well, Easter Sunday always came after a full moon, so this had to be a waxing gibbous. She stroked Harry’s hair as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Ginny,” he whispered, and she smiled. “I needed that.”

“Anytime, Potter,” she replied just as quietly. They both chuckled, and soon after they fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Someone on staff very thoughtfully left out hangover potions in their bathrooms, but they barely needed them. Still, it was nice to be rehydrated and they all went down to breakfast feeling great. When they were halfway through breakfast, a gorgeous fawn-colored barn owl flew in and dropped a letter on the silver tray left on the table for that purpose, then landed on a perch that had a cup of owl treats. The letter was a creamy vellum with embellishments in a shimmery, stately mauve. Harry flipped it over and found a seal of red wax with three lions pressed into it. He broke the seal and pulled out a letter in the same pretty vellum.

_To Harry Potter, Duke of Lanka,_

_Greetings from the newly appointed Countess of Chester, Renée Runcorn. It was very good to make your acquaintance, and the company we kept yesterday was most stimulating. I’ve never had so good a time on my own, nor so many candid friends. I hope that we might find the time this summer to repeat the experience._

_As we are in the same house, I’ve been assigned the task of inviting you to an informal gathering this Sunday for much of the new young nobility and heirs-in-waiting. You may bring as many guests as you like, but I suggest only the closest of friends, and those with tact. You are new to this, so I shall write it plainly: This may be informal, but all alliances of the past are up in the air. This is a chance to size each other up and gage whose goals align. In a perfect world we would all be united, but even in peacetime we all have our own agendas._

_Another reason for this state of casualness is to welcome the newcomers into the group. Many titles were removed from families, either because of treason or the extinction of the entire bloodline. The past nine months have been a scramble to find suitable nobility. Many have been awarded titles for service in the war, and there are still many more titles out there to be assigned or claimed._

_It is no secret that you have in your possession several titles that you may or may not grant to others. It would be uncouth for others to ask for said titles, but if I were you, I’d be prepared for people trying to ingratiate themselves to you. Some will be genuine, some will have ulterior motives. It will be up to you to discern which is which. However, to help you in this, you must bring friends who can read others._

_The party will be held at Kevin Entwhistle’s estate. The Floo address is on the back of the letter. It will start at 5, but since you will be one of the most powerful wizards there, you’d be more fashionable arriving at 5:30 or even 5:45. Trust me on that._

_Warmest Regards,  
Renée Runcorn  
Countess of Chester_

“Who is it from, Harry?” Hermione peered over, ever curious.

Harry handed the letter over to her. “Renée. She wants us to come to a party.”

He never once thought that anyone but Hermione, Ron, and Ginny would come with him. He watched Hermione’s eyes quickly scan the letter, then go over it again more slowly. She bit her bottom lip, a sure sign that she was thinking hard.

“Harry. It doesn’t say here that we’re invited, just you. And Ginny will be back in school by then.”

“Damn…!” Harry looked at Ginny apologetically. She just grinned and shrugged. “Well, at least I can take you two. See, it says to bring loyal guests. I can’t think of anyone more loyal than you three.”

Hermione leaned over to him and pointed at a single word, “tact”, then looked over at Ron.

“What?” He stood up and looked at the letter, then raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “Oh, and you don’t just open your mouth and insult every pureblood you can find?”

Hermione looked almost like she was going to be mad, but then she laughed and gave the letter back to Harry. “You’re right. I put my foot in my mouth nearly as much as you do.”

“Like I’m any better,” Harry exclaimed. “I’ll probably use the wrong salad fork or accidentally insult someone’s ancestors. If you aren’t there, I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown and die… again.”

They all stared at him awkwardly and he started to think that dealing with his trauma with humor might not be the best. He smiled, unsure, hoping they’d get it. Suddenly, Ginny snorted. “You sound like George.”

He actually watched the point click over for Ron and Hermione. “Oh, Harry. Of course we’ll go with you. But I think you should bring along someone more versed in this sort of thing, too.”

“Who?”

“Fleur. She’s from a good family and she’s very diplomatic. You could also bring Padma and Parvati. Padma is cool and witty, and Parvati knows how to be a social butterfly. They aren’t nobility but I think they were raised around it.”

“You think if we bring Fleur we can toss her away from Harry and hope everyone gets distracted by her?” Ron said flatly, sending them all into gigglefits.

When the laughter had subsided, Harry wiped his eyes and picked the letter back up. “Maybe I should write Renée back and ask how many people one normally brings to these things.”

“Harry,” Ginny said firmly. “You’re the Duke of Lanka. You basically do what you like. You have maybe two or three equals among nobility, and only the Grand Duchess is above you. You’re basically a prince of the realm. You could bring twenty people and Entwhistle would have to smile and make room.”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. To impose on people like that, so thoroughly, was appalling to him. He’d been the lowest person in the room before, and to make others feel that way was a rudeness he would not inflict. “Well, I certainly won’t be bringing twenty people!”

“You should bring people you consider your personal equals, people you admire,” Ginny continued. “Neville will be there for his own house, and he’ll probably bring Luna, so you can’t bring them.”

“I’ll ask the Headmistress if she’ll excuse you for the party, Ginny. I feel like I’d really rather have you there. Is that ok?”

“I suppose so.” She sighed and looked out the window, and Harry followed her gaze. It was just beginning to rain, droplets pattering on the windows. “It will be an entirely different kind of battle.”

Shortly thereafter Ron and Hermione excused themselves to go relax up in their room. Hermione stated, with a firm look about her, that it was to get Ron to do his assignments, but Harry saw Ron’s wink as they got up. Some things never changed, and it reassured Harry that at least some things in his life were steady.

After they’d left, Ginny meandered into the front parlor to watch the rain and people passing by. Harry joined her on the chintzy loveseat. The weather hadn’t seemed to slow the easter traffic; people were still bustling about, boasting spells to keep them dry or lurid umbrellas transfigured from other objects. Harry frowned when he saw a very old and odious witch pass by, berating her house-elf that was frantically trying to juggle packages and keep his mistress dry at the same time.

“I would never treat a house-elf like that,” he muttered darkly. “I don’t understand why anyone would.”

“Some people want to feel superior to others. House-elves are easy targets these days. Hermione does have one thing right about them. Their rights have slowly been stripped away over the centuries. Their conditions barely resemble what they used to be.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Hermione made me help her with research for S.P.E.W.” Ginny shrugged and picked at a fingernail.

Harry smirked. “You didn’t see fit to tell her about that brownie thing, though.”

Ginny gave him a serious look. “No. I thought she’d give up if she knew. She wanted to help them, and mostly in the right direction.”

He gave that serious thought. Perhaps Hermione wasn’t completely barmy about house-elves. After all, he only had the experience of how harsh pure-bloods were with them, and of course there were the Hogwarts elves. He’d liked Dobby, but he could admit that the self-punishment made him uncomfortable on multiple levels and made it difficult to want to be around them.

“We should go down to the House-Elf Relocation Agency,” Ginny said suddenly, almost startling Harry out of his thoughts.

“We should?”

“Yes. Polaris said you needed them for the castle and I agree. House-elves can help repair a place a lot faster than just humans. Think about all the help we got at Hogwarts compared to the work we did in Diagon. Besides, as a Duke you’re going to be expected to have not only a contingent of house-elves, but human staff too.”

Harry groaned and slid sideways on the couch, putting a pillow over his face. “I don’t want servants. I want a flat down the street where I can burn my own food and forget to wash my socks in peace.”

He got no response from Ginny for a few moments, and then she chuckled. “Are you done moping yet?”

“I guess so,” he said gustily, pulling the pillow off his face and hugging it. “I might as well get everything in order before I loaf around. Life’s never gonna be easy, is it?”

“That’s what the servants are for, Harry. To make sure you’re taken care of so that you can do great things.”

Harry shuddered, a whispering memory of old Ollivander’s words insinuating itself into his mind. Hadn’t he done something great enough already? Or had he just been forced into a corner and gotten lucky? That was probably more likely. After all, the only truly great things that happened in the world were actions, not reactions. 

That was besides the point. The topic of the day was house-elves. It was something he was eager to get over with, but the process seemed daunting.

“Let’s get going, then.” Besides, he loved spending time with Ginny.

They grabbed their coat robes and pulled their hoods up against the dreary London drizzle. The House-Elf Relocation Agency was at the corner of Diagon and Splendific. They stopped at a bakery for a round of soft, fresh bread and a glass jug of ice-cold milk. Ginny explained that that was how one hired house-elves. Of course, the Agency had a very significant processing fee, thus limiting who could afford to get them.

The wind was starting to pick up, whisking droplets against them as they ducked into the corner building. It was constructed at an odd angle, was a pretty pale yellow with a constructed stone base, and had immaculately kept window boxes of charming flowers. Inside was a very pretty foyer, all gold-veined white marble, pillars, houseplants, and expensive furniture that was obviously centuries old but was in perfect condition. There was a heavy desk nearly tucked under a stairwell, with a middle-aged witch who rather resembled a buttercream layer cake. She was all pastels and big silk flowers, with a merry face and a plump figure. Harry had the strange impression that Molly Weasley and Dolores Umbridge had been merged in a terrible potions accident and that this woman was the result.

“Welcome!” Her voice was a high, musical trill. She stood and bustled around to them, offering her hand. When she caught sight of Harry’s still-healing scar, her grin widened with recognition, and he groaned internally. “Mr. Harry Potter! What a pleasant surprise! I was wondering when I would see you in here.”

He barely kept himself from cringing at the tone of coy flirtation in her voice. Ginny cleared her throat and lightly tapped her finger, giving him a look. He briefly glanced down at his own hand, where he was now wearing his Earl’s crest ring. The other two titles were on a chain around his neck; he couldn’t put them on his fingers until he was accepted by the properties.

“Actually, it’s Earl now, miss….”

Surprise registered on her face, but she recovered quickly. “Oh! Amelia Emmerson, My Lord. It is very good to see you coming into your own. I take it you’re here for a house-elf or two.”

Ginny sighed beside him. Perhaps he wasn’t pulling the proper social weight? He had no idea how he was supposed to behave, but he was rather uncomfortable being called “My Lord”. It made him think of Voldemort.

“Er, yes, actually.” He tried not to fidget.

“And who is this charming young man?” she continued, turning to look at Ginny. “Your good friend, Ron Weasley, perhaps?”

Now it was their turn to be shocked. “No, uh… This is his sister, Ginny,” Harry said after a moment.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I can never tell with you young people!” Miss Emmerson waved her hand as if to clear the air of her mistake and gestured them to the desk. Once they were all seated, she folded her hands and beamed at them. “So, how many house-elves are you looking to hire?”

Harry had discussed this with Ginny on the way here, so he was feeling nervous but comfortable with his words. He laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair.

“Ideally I’d like to have a family of twenty or so, with an additional count of twenty or thirty. I don’t want to split up any family members. I’d also prefer them to have an independent, self-confident streak. I don’t want any that punish themselves at the drop of a hat or wail over the slightest hesitation on my part. No dramatics. I need them to be skilled in castle maintenance and management. And I need for them to be discrete and not soaked in Voldemort propaganda.”

To her credit, she took notes and did not comment on his needs. Half-moon glasses with a chain were perched on her nose, and she wrote with a trimmed ostrich feather dyed rose pink. When he reached the end of what he needed, she smiled and pulled out a large ledger.

“We’ve actually had a large influx of house-elves in the last year. You’ll be spoiled for choice. I have a few options for you, but I think you’ll particularly like this one family and an association of smaller families and single elves that work well with them. They’ve been maintaining a few castles that were seized by the ministry. Let’s go upstairs and meet their matriarch and her spouse, shall we?”

Miss Emmerson led them upstairs and to a sitting room that had five elves in it. One was the oldest elf he’d ever seen, far older than Kreacher, but much more healthy and sane. She had a thin braid of white hair and knobby knuckles, and she was wearing a plain white pillowcase that had been cinched at the waist, with a collar made from a lacy doily.

“This is Sappho, head of the Lexis clan, her spouse, Erinna, and her consort, Chaucer.”

The elderly elf bowed her head lightly, hands grasped around a walking staff that was just as knobbly as her. The somewhat younger elves beside her bowed as well, though they were still around Kreacher’s age. The wife, as Harry guessed, had a French braid of silvery hair and was wearing a tea-towel toga with a lace trim, and Chaucer, who was sporting a significant salt and pepper mustache, was draped in what looked to be a black table runner with dark green tassels.

Miss Emmerson introduced Harry and Ginny, and Sappho smiled and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. Would you like some tea?”

Harry was momentarily taken aback by the demure manners and the proper speech, but he recovered quickly. “I would like that very much.”

The three humans sat as one of the young elves that had been in the room vanished. Harry cleared his throat. “Um, would you like to sit with us? I feel like we should discuss hiring properly.”

“Thank you, sir, I will,” she said, batting not one eyelash at his invitation. She eased her old bones onto a padded footstool, and her partners positioned themselves beside her. The young elf was quickly back with a tea tray. Sappho herself served them with gentle motions of her knobbled hands at the pot and cups. “I’ve heard good things about you, sir.”

“Like what?” Harry asked before he sipped his tea.

“That you are kind to elves, and that you are understanding. That you fight for us, and have patience with difficult cases.”

Harry blushed and looked down into his tea. “There’s been times when I did lose my temper.”

“Some never stop, but not you.”

“Er….” Harry searched for another topic. “How is it that you speak so well?”

Ginny elbowed him, but Sappho only chuckled indulgently. “Different clans of elves have different traditions and characteristics. I imagine you’ve been exposed to the Obsequium clan. They are large, scattered, and preferred among the dark families of pure-blooded wizards. The Lexis clan, though, is a branch family of the Vox clan, which serves the Grand Duchess. We pride ourselves on superior manners, but we won’t abase ourselves and many just don’t like that.”

Impressed, Harry and Sappho continued to speak for half an hour or so, negotiating. In the end, he handed over the bread and milk, and like that he was master to fifty-odd house-elves. That only left paying Miss Emmerson the processing fees and taxes, which was a truly ludicrous amount, in the form of a Gringotts cheque. They conducted that downstairs, and as they left, Harry felt that it was probably money well spent.

Chaucer had been assigned to him so that he could learn Harry’s habits quickly and train a younger elf to keep up with him. Though a serious elf, he nonetheless proved to have a lovely dry wit and beautiful sarcasm that he was kind enough to point well away from Harry and his friends. Hermione was briefly dismayed with his hiring, but Chaucer’s eloquence and intelligence soon made her think twice.

Overall, Harry thought the day a success.

\---------

Ginny laid across the end of the bed, looking at how the street lamps played on the raindrops that hit the window. It was after dinner, and she was contemplating the day. Specifically, the point in the day where Miss Emmerson had referred to her as a young man. She was trying to work out how she felt about it.

The strangest thing was that her initial, instinctive reaction had been a pleased sort of pride. To be taken for a handsome young man was thrilling and interesting, a side effect of the haircut and clothes that she hadn’t anticipated. It made her feel cool and strong. At the same time, she wondered if it should be something she was supposed to be more insulted by. After all, a girl doesn’t always like to be masculine, right? She’d been the most strident of tomboys as a child, and only when she got close to being at Hogwarts had she changed her behavior to suit her mother’s expectations. It was a very weird feeling to be back in that mindset, even if it was only a little. It was like bringing out a childhood toy.

A part of her was offended. After all, she’d worked hard to become the person she was today. To fit in. It was wasted effort if people didn't recognize it. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry coming out of the bathroom, hair still wet and pajama bottoms low on his hips. Ah, who cared about how people perceived her when Harry liked her? She rolled over and smiled. “So, what should we wear to that party?”

Harry groaned and plopped down at the head of the bed. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

She grinned at him. “Well, whatever you do wear, you will probably set the style. I wouldn’t be surprised if after that your Carlisle was flooded with orders.”

“Well, he’ll be happy. I suppose we should go tomorrow to get something special put together.”

“Good! I like the clothes he makes. I’ve never been so fond of a jacket before.”

“Can I buy you the outfit for the party? It’s my fault you’ll be going.”

Ginny thought about it. On the one hand, her Weasley pride said she should refuse and find a way. On the other hand, it was possible she was going to be Harry’s future Duchess. Even if she wasn’t, right now they were the best of friends and Harry was wealthy beyond reason. If he wanted to show her care and affection with presents, who was she to deny his expression?

“I guess so, as long as you let me decide what it looks like.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile, nudging her with his foot. A laugh bubbled up in her and she turned over to attack his toes with tickles, which sent him into a helplessly laughing, squirming pile. Afterwards, he confessed that he’d never been tickled before, and Ginny promised to tickle him as often as possible.

\---------

The next day they went back to Carlisle, all four of them, and Harry sent out letters to Fleur and Bill, and to Padma and Parvati. Thinking it didn’t hurt to have more Weasley’s about him, he also invited George. He would have liked to invite Charlie, but he’d gone back to Romania.

The four stopped in WWW to see how George liked the idea of a fancy party. Ginny made George promise not to prank the other party-goers, but George was a somewhat changed man, and he seemed interested in moving about in politics. Harry wondered for the first time why he hadn’t been a Slytherin. It was yet another curious puzzle about Hogwarts he was interested in figuring out.

The rest of the day was fine, blissful even. Though he was often stared at, it was almost as if the general populace had decided to give him a break and let him enjoy his hols. The reporters even kept their distance. That didn’t stop them from writing about him, but Hermione, as usual, screened the papers for him. She usually gave him an update every day without him having to go through the stress of reading them himself. Eventually, though, she’d be too busy to do it. He’d have to think about hiring a PR manager.

At dinner that night, Hermione came up with an idea that changed the course of their plans.

“What do you all think about one of us applying to a muggle university to study child development?” She was given the usual skeptical looks, so she pressed on. “No, but listen. Don’t you think it’s odd that there’s no dedicated student counselor at Hogwarts? Someone impartial and knowledgeable about kids to help them through things?”

The other three paused, each considering it. Ron shrugged. “I’m going into law enforcement.”

Ginny licked her lips. “I was thinking about going into mediwizardry.”

Hermione sighed. “And I’ve already unofficially accepted that apprenticeship with Malcom, Maddux, and Associates. Law really is the best way I can see to getting things in the laws changed. I suppose I could do it in my free time.”

“I’ll do it,” Harry put in with what he hoped was stubborn finality. “I want to work with the kids. I want to be prepared if something pops up. Besides, if I’m to work towards a betterment of Hogwarts curriculum, I should know this stuff.”

Hermione clapped and let out a happy, approving squeak. “Oh, Harry! That would be wonderful! And I think it would suit you. I promise, I’ll research all the information you need on applying at the muggle library and make sure you can get in. I don’t think they require prerequisites, but you’ve got good enough marks to make it if they do.”

“I’ll go with you. I want to look up some things as well.” Naturally, this made Hermione very pleased, and since following through had become habit, Harry was sure that he could actually do some extra curricular studying without flinching too badly. But that brought his studies, besides everything for N.E.W.T.s, up even more. There was all that nobility stuff, and law things for the Wizengamot, and now doing some pre-studying for muggle university.

Harry needed to prioritize, it seemed.

\-------

After Ginny went back to Hogwarts, Harry met back up with Polaris to interview their recommendations for Harry’s staff. He needed a proper PR manager, a second solicitor that was versed in the laws and politics of the wizengamot, a seneschal, a housekeeper, and a butler, apparently.

It took all day, interviewing those that Polaris had queued up. In the end, Harry awkwardly chose people for each position, and mostly on Polaris’ recommendation. Kaymont Williams, a serious, experienced law writer, was Polaris’ strongest choice, and Harry had to admit that the woman was formidable. She was actually part of the firm Hermione was going to study at, and Harry liked the thought that they would have no impediment in consulting. The PR manager was the most difficult. Everyone wanted to be in Harry Potter’s business, and they were willing to lie just to get an audience with him. Most of the so-called PR professionals were just reporters. Polaris apologized profusely for allowing them through.

The last person interviewed was the one they settled on for PR. Lorian Firstgate was a very sleek man, tall and blond, with gray-blue eyes. He was a pureblood from the mainland, and his references were impeccable. He’d seen the advertisement that Polaris had put out, since he had subscriptions to all the major newspapers, and since he was between jobs, he came to interview. After he’d gone, Harry had admitted to liking him best. He made one feel at ease, but also that one shouldn’t ask too many questions.

The rest -- wizards and witches that actually wanted to be servants in his castle -- were hired through an agency, and signed very strict non-disclosure agreements. Harry only had to meet them in person and key them into the wards, which wouldn’t happened until the end of the week.

Because Sunday was the party, and Polaris insisted that Harry be a Duke by law before it, Saturday was given over to visiting Lanka. Harry had to get up absurdly early in the morning to catch an international portkey they had ordered specially to get to Colombo, Sri Lanka. It was still dark when they left the inn -- the mystery of Polaris’ stay at the inn had been resolved; they were there while their apartment was being renovated -- and it was five a.m. by the time they got to Heathrow. The wizarding side of the terminals still looked as though it was in the nineteen sixties, all drab colors and poured plastic seating. Harry refused all attempts to get him to eat, because normal portkeys made him queasy. He couldn’t imagine how sick he’d be from an international one, nevermind several.

The first portkey, a discarded paper cup, took them all the way to Rome. The wizarding side of the Leonardo da Vinci Airport was very stately, with all sorts of culture jammed into the long hallway of rooms they found themselves at. Weak pre-dawn light showed through the tall, dignified windows, and Harry took a breather to get his stomach under control before they did a fast walk to get to their five-fifteen portkey to Larnaca International on the island of Cyprus. It was just a single room, on the plain side, with big windows showing the pretty sunrise coming up in the sea. Harry could barely appreciate it.

They sat waiting on the hard benches for another fifteen minutes, when a portly old witch came in with a sprig of olive branch, which she offered to them with a smile. Harry smiled back, even though he didn’t feel like it, and took hold of the branch. A minute later they were off to Dubai International Airport, a lavish place where Harry really did throw up on the clean marble floor in front of several other travelers. Red-faced, he vanished the mess and took a sip of potion he’d brought to settle his stomach. It tasted like red dye and blue dye had had a baby that was definitely not purple.

Still, the staff there were very polite and got him some water, took a look at their itinerary, and led them to the correct alcove for their next portkey. The Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai was packed despite the early hour, and Harry had no idea if the people around him were even wizards or not. Polaris seemed to know where he was going, though, and unerringly led Harry to a counter where they had to wait half an hour just to find out that their portkey had been mislaid and they would be delayed until another could be made. This apparently took an additional forty-five minutes.

When they finally got to Colombo, they had to get through customs, and there was no wizarding version of that. So it was that it was after noon, local time, that they made it out into the thick, humid, rainy air of Sri Lanka’s largest city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're to the part that needs active writing on my part. Most everything before this I wrote over a year ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter, but I wanted to start a chapter with the party.

“Mr. Potter?” An unfamiliar voice drew Harry’s attention. There stood a lovely witch, wearing a rose pink pinstripe suit with a pencil skirt and matching heels. “Ah, it's good to finally meet you. I’m Tarani Anand, solicitor of the Podyr estate. So good to see you again, Polaris.”

She shook both their hands, her smile dazzling Harry. She barely had any accent at all, and when she spoke it was concise and businesslike. Harry admired that professionalism, so often lost among British wizards. “I’m sorry that we’re so late,” he said, trying to return the courtesy. “We were delayed in Mumbai.”

“Most people are.” She gestured gracefully down the avenue to a black car parked down at the end of the overhang. “You must be tired after your journey, but Polaris has promised a busy schedule. I have some lunch in the car. We must go to my office, I’m afraid, to get through the fire to the island.”

“Thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you.” Harry’s boots rang on the wet cobbles as he followed her. She only stopped to open the door of the car for them. Harry and Polaris ducked in quickly, rain hitting their backs briefly. Tarani joined them quickly, sitting in a backwards facing seat. Though the car was short on the outside, it had the space of a sitting room inside. A tea was laid out already, with aromatic local dishes and fresh naan, looking rather delicate and proper. She served them herself.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry found himself saying halfway through their meal. “I meant to give my condolences on the recent losses in the Podyr family. I was not aware of it until just this week.”

She patted his hand briefly. “I should think you wouldn’t have known. You were quite busy, after all.”

The way she put it was just as he liked it, without pomp. It was a rare person that allowed him to just be himself. He smiled a little and looked out the window at the passing city, all lights under cloud cover. There was a lot of new construction going on, huge cranes reaching for the skies. To Harry it was wondrous, he’d been so long in the wizarding world. He did always like being in a car and watching things go by.

Going through the fire turned out to be nothing more than a Floo hookup, apparently rare around here. The callsign of the island turned out to be Eelam, and Harry stepped out of a brickwork arch into a covered outdoor bakery. Here it was sunny, and he could smell food nearby. The sounds of a busy village surrounded the bakery. Harry stepped out of the way for Polaris and Tarani.

“This is the only a plottable island below the main part,” Tarani explained as she led them up a path. “Most people think that it is just a small island with the one village. But for us, Eelam is the center of magic for India, a floating island in the sky.” She gestured upwards, where a massive, fluffy white cloud was drifting quietly in peace among the scattered rain clouds. “Many magical families reside here, and are grateful for the light touch the Podyr family has been known to use in their rule.”

Harry could take a hint, swallowing at the idea of being up so high. “I see. And are my cousins at home right now?”

“Yes, they are. They specifically requested to meet you.” Ahead was a large gateway, empty and ragged-looking. Harry could taste the magic around it, like the spices lingering in his mouth from lunch. As he stepped inside it, the magic broke over him like a wave, shivering and tingling in greeting. He stretched out his hands, letting it play over his fingers, natural magic so old he could sense a personality. It welcomed him in, pulsing with warmth that had nothing to do with heat.

He hadn’t even been aware that his eyes had closed until he opened them again. Polaris and Tarani were waiting, not in a ruined arch, but in a tunnel of native vine flowers growing up trellises the size the gate had been. Blue sea glass made up the path, and hummingbird fairies buzzed in the foliage. At the end of the tunnel he could see perfect lawns of emerald grass. Looking behind him, he saw the tunnel end at what he assumed was a sheer drop. Eager to be away from it, he jogged to catch up with the other two.

“I’ll never get tired of surprises like that,” he confided to Polaris.

“Just wait til you see what’s next.”

They stepped out of the tunnel into the broad lawn that Harry had glimpsed, surrounded by rich gardens and massive trees that overhung a palace beyond his imagining. The front was entirely taken up by a long, massive gallery, open on all sides with pillars in repeating patterns of flowers colored in jewel toned red, gold, and blue. Broad white marble steps that spanned from one end to the other led up to it, and behind were such towers, with onion-shaped domes atop all in stained glass. He could hear fountains and birds, and the smell was a heady mix of flowers and rain on earth. Even though it had been wickedly humid behind them, the air here was sweetened by a breeze.

Carried in the others’ wake, Harry almost didn’t notice the two girls dressed in richly embroidered saris. Polaris nudged him and he came back to himself, a little overwhelmed.

“Harry Potter, may I introduce the ladies Kushali and Shakti Podyr.” Tarani spoke with an air of formality, so Harry bowed to the girls as politely as he knew how.

“My condolences, cousins,” he said solemnly when he straightened. Polaris had been coaching him on how to talk among nobility. “I wish that our paths had crossed sooner, so that I may have known my family better.”

The elder of the two, Kushali, was a darkly serious girl, taller than Harry, her hair back in a severe tail. She was dressed in a dark blue sari embroidered in silver. Shakti looked to be a few years younger, and she wore her hair loose, her sari a very pale saffron with gold embroidery.

“I wish this too,” Kushali said, voice soft. “Thank you for coming to see us. Will you join us for tea?”

Harry agreed, and soon they were all seated on cushions around a low, carved table, drinking jasmine tea from small cups. Harry was beginning to find the lack of any other humans a bit unnerving. This place should have been bustling, but it now felt abandoned.

“Your lands are beautiful,” he murmured.

“They are your lands now.” Kushali bit her lip, hands trembling on her cup. She set it down quickly. Shakti stared at her hands.

“Oh.” Harry set his cup down as well. “I… Yes, that’s true. It don’t plan to live here, though. I have a lot going on back in England. And I don’t plan on kicking you out. I… don’t have any family other than you two. I would like to get to know you better, if you don’t mind, but you can stay here if that’s what you want.”

The girls relaxed immediately. “Oh, thank you,” Shakti chirped. “We were so worried…!”

“But our worries were in vain. Thank you, cousin.” They laughed with relief, and Harry joined them in it.

“So why do you call this place Eelam? I thought it was Lanka.”

They giggled again. “Lanka just means ‘island.’”

Shakti smiled and poured them more tea. “Eelam is what we call it. The palace is called Serendipity.”

Harry looked past the girls and the pillars, admiring the beautiful gardens in the center of the palace. “It’s the loveliest place I’ve ever been,” he admitted. “But are you two going to be alright rattling around here?”

“We’ll manage,” Kushali said, though she seemed a little uncertain. “We’ve still some schooling left, and after that we’ll be marrying. Our betrotheds are honorable wizards. They will do well by your name.”

“Is that what you want, though? I’m not one to step on toes, but I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want.”

Kushali unwound enough to smile, head tipping a little. “And we are not backwards witches, bound to men. We chose our betrotheds.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Harry sipped his tea. “And where is it that you go to school?”

“We’re at Beauxbatons, on special attendance due to our station,” Kushali explained. “Technically, as nobility, we are British citizens, but we chose not to attend Hogwarts due to a lack of variety in courses.”

Shakti gave Harry an apologetic look. “You see, there’s a school here on Eelam, but it is very small. Most magical folk get trained at home, or at tiny community centers. We wanted a broad education so that we can expand the school here and become internationally recognized.”

Harry brightened up. “We have similar goals, then. Right now I’m planning on bringing Hogwarts back to its old glory. My mates and I want to expand the curriculum and bring in international students in order to strengthen the magical community.”

“I’m so glad,” Shakti said with a sigh, smiling broadly. “Oh, cousin, we could benefit from an alliance. The Duchy here is very rich, as you can tell. We’ve more than enough to fund our school, but we need connections to get teachers. If we help you fund Hogwarts, will you help us locate fine teachers?”

“I’d be more than happy to.”

\-----

It was difficult for Harry to leave the paradise of Serendipity palace after he and his cousins had become educational co-conspirators. The palace was so welcoming, even empty, and looking back, Harry thought that the girls’ plan to make it the new school was a marvelous idea. His good mood was barely dampened by all the portkeys back to Heathrow, even if he did have to sip his anti-nausea potion twice during the journey.

 _I have cousins,_ he thought with warmth as he and Polaris dodged through the crowds. _And they aren’t horrible people!_

There was no time to stop and breathe, though. Polaris’ schedule was tight indeed. They made it to the street and got ahold of a Knight Bus, which of course none of the muggles could see. Thankfully this one didn’t feature the awkward Michael Corner and his funny driver, but it was still plenty odd.

A sprightly young lady with bunny ears nestled in her golden hair greeted them with rather more enthusiasm than Harry was prepared to ever deal with. Her clothing was a garish mix of modern muggle and some sort of sailor uniform. It drew Harry up short and Polaris ran into his back.

“Welcome! To! The Knight Bus!” She was shouting, although her cute voice tempered it a little. Just a little. Maybe Harry was going deaf from her.

Frightened, and perhaps intimidated, he held up a hand in a stopping gesture and, glory of glories, she went silent. “Um? We’ve been on before. Can we just pay?”

“Oh. Sure!” She snapped her ankles together and put out her hand, smiling cutely. Harry fought to keep his eyebrows from running away into his hairline, paid her for both of them, and stepped inside. This Knight Bus had been similarly transformed, the room looking like a waiting room in some posh doctor’s office, if it weren’t for the rather frightening paintings of clowns. 

Harry gave the driver -- a man in a full-blown tuxedo -- their destination and fled to the next floor, where everything looked like an old fashioned American diner. The floor was patterned in black and white tile, and shiny metal lined red leather booths with formica tables. There was even a jukebox in the back playing the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry excused himself to the restroom just for a quiet breather.

It was some minutes before they took off. Several departing witches and wizards had spotted the violently purple bus and taken advantage of its presence to board. Harry settled in the top floor (happily looking like a quiet courtyard complete with fountain) with Polaris and let himself relax. The gentle motion of the bus lulled him into a small nap, so that it felt like no time at all when the crazy bunny girl was calling their stop up the spiral staircase.

When they reached the door he turned to her, hesitated, then plunged on. “I just have to ask --”

“Failed animagus transformation,” she said cheerfully, though thankfully at a lower volume. “I retake it next year.”

“Right. Good luck.” He stepped out of the bus onto a craggy moor.

“Thanks!” The Bus popped off back into whatever magical space it used to travel, and Harry blew out his breath. “Well, this looks like a shithole.”

Polaris busted out into laughter, slapping Harry’s back. Harry wasn’t entirely wrong. The land was acrid, given over to heather and grasses, and looked as if it primarily grew sharp rocks. A temperamental wind caught at their cloaks and whipped them about with a spattering of wet that couldn’t properly be called a rain. In front of them was the sharpest mountains Harry had ever seen, all black and jagged, eerie and uninviting.

“Don’t tell me that Celestory is in there. Please tell me it’s behind us on the moors.”

“Sadly, it’s in there. Hiding.”

“That makes it sound like a wolf.” Harry swallowed nervously. “Are we on the edge of the wards?”

“I believe so, yes.” Polaris stared at the mountains, brows drawn together in concern. “After you, sir.”

Harry held back a scoff at being called sir and stepped forward. He hoped fervently that this was the last ancestral home he had to take over. As wonderful as the last two had been, this one felt… unfriendly. As he came closer to the buzzing magic, the wind blew colder into his face, the water slapping him in the face like shards of ice. It became harder and harder to move forward. He put his hand out to shield his face, and came up against the wards, the magic almost physical with its density. Harry gritted his teeth and pushed back, feeling a force in his chest well up and push, too. Distantly, he could hear himself yelling wordlessly. The next step was like walking against a wave in the ocean. Still, he pushed and pushed, until he felt the wards suddenly relaxed and let him through. He stumbled and fell on his face, and he felt the wards laughing at him in a distinctly Sirius-like manner.

He sat up, rubbing his stinging nose, and started laughing.

“Harry?” Polaris sounded worried. “Are you alright?”

“It was just a test!” Harry called, waving. He had gotten a few yards away in his efforts. He stood up, dusting off his trousers and chuckling. Polaris jogged up to him, holding a handkerchief.

“Harry, your nose is bleeding!”

He tentatively took the handkerchief and dabbed at his nostrils, then looked at the blood-spotted cloth. “Maybe they needed some blood, too. I don’t know how these things work.”

“I highly doubt a Black property would want your blood specifically,” Polaris mused. “But perhaps it just wanted to make you bleed.”

Harry looked around, knowing there’d be something new to see. And there it was, up in the mountains, a castle to rival Hogwarts, spiky, dark, and utterly uninviting. It was nestled between the highest peaks, and Harry didn’t want to know what the inside was like if the wards were this cheeky.

“How about we make this a problem for another day?”

Polaris gave him a relieved look. “Yes. I quite like that idea. Let’s apparate back to the inn, shall we?”

\-----

They popped back into the tiny room at the inn devoted to apparation and floo travel, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice and warm here, not to mention safe. The room was just off the common room, and as soon as they entered, they saw Hermione and Ron, looking rather serious.

Harry began to feel alarmed when he spied Ron holding a letter. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Hermione took a breath. “Well, it’s not wrong, per say. It’s just…”

“I’ve been knighted, Harry!” Ron looked a little sick, but also very happy. He always did hate surprises, but he could live with glory. “All of the family has, even bloody Percy.”

Harry’s eyebrows made a desperate bid for his hairline again. “That’s fantastic!”

Hermione smiled to see Ron so happy, and Harry beamed, forgetting to hold the handkerchief to his nose. Ron chuckled and pointed to it. “What happened to your nose, mate?”

Harry put the cloth back to his trickling nose. “Oh, run in with some wards. No big deal.”

He plopped into a chair and noticed Hermione had a letter of her own. He tipped his head at it. “And what’d you get?”

She sighed dramatically. “The Yaxley estate has been split in order to pay reparations. I’ve been awarded a good deal of it, but the family, what’s left of it, is suing for it. It’s a nice little battle for me.”

“How come you haven’t been knighted as well?”

“I’ve already been cross on her behalf, Harry,” Ron confided in a stage whisper.

“Because I hold the majority of the estate, so it comes with a title.” She grimaced. “And also because the government is still prejudiced.”

“Of course. It’s not like we just fought a bloody big war to get rid of attitudes like that.” Harry’s eyes narrowed as Hermione shrugged. “You’ve got something up your sleeve.”

“Perhaps. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He grinned. “Good. Now help me fix this nose?”

\-----

Harry still had to go back to Gringott’s to review his new vaults, which took up the rest of the day, all the way up to the close of the bank. Redrhund had been very thorough in his estimations of the contents, and seemed eager to see some of it going into investments. Harry, still feeling a bit guilty about the dragon, agreed on several proposals with Polaris’ approval.

As they left the bank, Harry felt unbalanced with the sheer amount of wealth he had. It was dizzying, and he didn’t feel entirely up to the responsibility of it all. “Polaris? Can I redistribute some of all… that?”

They paused at a corner and Polaris looked Harry over. “Well… You could definitely afford to get rid of those titles you haven’t accepted yet. Who did you have in mind?”

“Hermione. I don’t care if she’s already got Yaxley’s; she deserves a cleaner name. She’s someone that I want to have a lot of clout in the Wizengamot. And I know she’d treat her lands properly. I want the two highest titles to go to her.”

“Anyone else?”

“Bill and Fleur Weasley. They need one.”

“And the rest of the Weasleys?”

Harry bit his lip, torn between choosing those that would be good politicians and those who were his friends. What if some of them didn’t want titles? What if some did, and just wanted it for power? “I… I’ll have to think about it.”

“You know, one of the titles is the old Weasley lands. Should we give that to Bill?”

Harry nodded firmly. “I don’t think I could make Arthur and Molly accept them, anyways.”

“So what is your goal in granting these titles out?”

He was still torn on that, but had to cede what would do the most good, even if it felt a little like being Dumbledore. “I want allies in the Wizengamot, but I also want deserving people to live comfortably.”

“There are ways to get both, you know. That’s twelve more potential allies.”

Harry tried to count up how many peers he had that he wanted to have for allies. Dean would be a fine politician if he tried. Luna, Andromeda, George, and McGonagall. Did he know anyone in Hufflepuff?

Polaris watched him carefully, then murmured. “Ennobling a Slytherin would automatically buy their allegiance, and I don’t doubt that they need the good PR.”

That was an idea. “Polaris. You wouldn’t happen to happen to have been a Slytherin, would you?”

Polaris grinned disarmingly. “Now what makes you say that?”

That was, obviously, Slytherin for yes. Harry could really see it now, but he didn’t mind at all. Somewhere along the line of the last year he’d left his prejudice behind. Snape and Draco had changed his mind, it seemed. Hell, even pitying Voldemort had helped. Life wasn’t about what house you were in, and if he cared about it, he’d be just as childish and bitter as the late Dark Lord. Besides, if only houses mattered, what would happen when he worked with someone who’d been homeschooled? Or gone to a different school altogether?

“I’d need to get to know some of them better.” He sighed and they both started back towards the inn. “Perhaps Draco will bring some friends to the party. He’s going to be very careful now who he associates with.”

“Excellent point. Well, the key to any action is communication. I advise you to speak with anyone involved and get their take on it. You never know the mind of another until you ask.”

\-----

Harry went to bed that night with a swirl of thoughts fighting off sleep. He was confused about how to proceed in the future, and he missed Ginny’s sensible mind. He missed her warmth beside him as well. Had he grown so used to her presence in only a week? It would be nice to see her again tomorrow.

He had to ignore distraction though, and figure out what he wanted to do tomorrow. He had to arrive late, with his chosen party, and he had to look good. He had to make allies and avoid those who would be enemies. He sighed and rolled over, looking out the window. An owl winged by, and he missed Hedwig. If he was going to be a politician and a noble, he’d probably need a new owl. Something big and sturdy that could defend itself. Maybe something exotic. It was with thoughts of owls that he finally fell asleep.


End file.
